Bloody Ashes Are All I Have
by Kinthinia
Summary: Andrea has nothing, and the one goodness she has left, she's asked to kill it. Marissa's lost everything, but she holds onto kindness. With the dead rising and a trap underway, the Winchesters are the only hope and despair they have.
1. Fated Meeting

Chapter One

A Fated Meeting

I shifted, bored out of my mind as I washed the counter down. I'd been told they'd get here soon, but I had no idea how long I had to wait. I'd expected it to be a week long wait or so, not several months. I'd been here long enough that I was holding down a steady job and had found a nice little cabin to rent. It wasn't supposed to be like this. I was supposed to be an antihero off on my own little mission, not someone to be forgotten and left behind.

With a growl I muttered under my breath, something about what I'd do if I ever found out this was just some joke. I'd left home behind and other small missions I could be doing. This one was a biggie. It was my chance to get noticed, prove to my family that I was worthy. But man, I hated waiting. At least I didn't have to worry that they'd come after me. They knew where I was and they wanted me to be successful too. Sometimes I felt like I was a disgrace to them, but I'd always believed that I would have the chance to do something great and prove to them that I was worth everything.

I snapped out of my reverie as a bottle of whiskey was thrust under my nose. I faked gagging on the scent of it and drew away from it. My co-worker Rachel grinned at me and I sighed in exasperation.

"Hey you deserved it this time," she said defensively. "You kept washing the same area, totally zoned out and focused on something. Sheesh, if you're that tired just go home already."

I winced and looked at the reflective circle on the counter. Compared to the rest of the top, it was amazingly clean. And it would take a long time to get it evenly cleaned. I groaned, loathing the fact that I had just made my job a lot harder. And like any good friend would do, Rachel just laughed and danced away. I threw my semi-soapy rag at her and she caught it, whipping it out at me. With a shrill giggle I got my forearm up ahead of time and blocked the stinging blow, catching the cloth and tugging it away from Rachel.

It was then that the doors to the little bar opened and a good looking man walked up. He seemed pretty careless about the fact that the sign read closed. The doors should have been locked. Rachel straightened as I glanced around, looking for one of the bouncers. The manager wasn't going to be happy about this at all. The doors had to be locked while we were cleaning and select few had the keys for it.

I recognized the man from earlier tonight. He'd been a trouble maker with some of the other girls. I shifted automatically. Rachel was accustomed enough to my defensive reactions that she backed away, knowing there was nothing she could do to stop this guy. We were alone, likely a terrifying notion to my co-worker but comfortable in the fact that I was here at least. I could defend myself and I would defend her too.

The man was clearly more than just a little drunk, and definitely something other than human. I had enough experience with creatures that were not human to recognize one when I saw them. I was grateful it wasn't a demon, I wouldn't have known what to do with a demon and I also probably would have let Rachel go to one. At least this way I didn't have to, I could still protect my friend.

The man reached over towards me, and I reacted instinctively, blocking his approaching hand and then slamming it down on the counter and dislocating it with an effortless twist. But of course he didn't care and the pain certainly didn't faze him as he tried with his other hand. I dislocated it as well, just as easily. But it lasted only a few seconds before he popped his shoulders back into place and was attempting to approach us again.

I seriously hated monsters with low IQs. I vaulted over the counter, my feet connecting squarely with the man's chest. I figured it was probably a Minotaur, the spirit of a wild bull trapped within a man. It was rare, well as rare as any other supernatural creature I guess but even for me I'd only heard about these guys. I yanked the blade from my boot and slammed it into the Minotaur's heart. In a flash I saw the spirit dissipate from the vessel and then the blood started to ooze out and I pulled my knife from its chest.

I looked over my shoulder at Rachel in time to see her fall into a swoon and hit the floor. I winced. It wasn't a big deal for me if people thought I was crazy. I could always move on to some place where no one had heard of me. If worst came to worst I could always cross the border to Canada. That would at least take a decade before I'd have to move to Mexico because of infamy. But I didn't speak Spanish very well… I was better at it than French though. Of course all of this was conditional to the fact of if I survived long enough.

I went over to Rachel and dragged her out of the bar. If there was some better way to disguise this, I would have done it. But I had no other option. I went over to my car, the stupid crappy Pontiac thing that had been bought used just for me, and I opened the trunk. I seriously wished I had another car. Almost any other one would have worked aside from this _thing_. I'd almost had it for a year now. God, I hated it. But admittedly, at least I had a car no matter how craptastic it was.

I pulled out a jerry can of gasoline and went back inside the bar. I doused the place down, making sure to use some of the alcohols to help cover what the gas wouldn't. I stepped outside, drew my box of matches out and lit one against the cardboard before flicking it into the bar. It went up in flames and I stepped back, shoving the box into my pocket. I dragged Rachel away a safe distance before I tossed the container back in the trunk of my car and got in.

I turned the key in the ignition and my car flared to life. I was about to put it in reverse when someone jumped in front of my car, his hands slamming onto the hood. I jumped, a shameful, startled, squeak echoing in my car.

"I need a ride, please." Desperation shone in his eyes and I shook my head numbly. "I'll report you to the police," he threatened.

I glowered and unlocked the door. I liked to try and stay out of trouble if I could help it. He attempted to squish into my tiny car and pushed the seat back as far as he could before he could fit. But it was a tight fit. Serves him right for blackmailing me.

"I need to go south of town."

"I need to go to another city," I retorted, backing out of my parking space.

"There's one south."

"I came from that direction."

He pulled out a cell phone, "I will call the police and report you for arson if you do not turn this car around right now and drive south like the freakin' devil's on your trail!" His eyes were determined and serious.

"Jeez what's your problem?" I growled under my breath as I turned around. I hated being under his control but I had no other choice in the matter.

He glared at me impatiently and then abruptly turned his focus onto his phone. He scowled and hit the radio; soothing country music filled my little car.

"You seriously listen to this garbage?" he reached for the station button and I swatted his hand away.

"_My_ car, my music." I wondered if he would actually threaten me with calling the cops again, just because I didn't listen to the kind of music he did. I mean, country wasn't my favorite but I'd changed to this station because the other options weren't as appealing. But now I had the wonderful knowledge of knowing he disliked country, so I wasn't about to change the station for this hijacker.

I smirked as he settled in slightly, clearly pissed off with being forced to suffer this music. I cringed as a bitter, melancholy tune started to play, but I made no move to turn the radio off. He didn't say much after that, just directed me where to drive and if I was to make any turns. He was considerate enough to give me warning ahead of time if I needed to make a turn or change direction. At first I thought he was just a lunatic who'd broken out of a hospital but then I began to realize that his directions all came in accordance from whenever he glanced at his phone. As the hours wore on, I realized he wasn't telling me where to go. He was telling me to follow whoever was ahead of me, whoever he was chasing.

I attempted to go off course several times but he glared and threatened to report me. And I was still in the damn state so they could arrest me if need be. I promised myself that if his crazy goose chase led me out of state, I wasn't going to listen to him anymore.

"Why were you trying to burn down that bar?" he asked suddenly.

"_Trying_?" I demanded. I better not have just been "trying" I had better have succeeded.

"Alright, alright, sheesh. Why did you burn down the bar?"

I snuck a quick look at him and saw that he was watching out the passenger window. Well there wasn't much to say about why. I could lie, make up excuses galore or I could tell the truth. I decided I'd risk the truth, see how he'd react. I mean I'd already committed arson, knowing I'd murdered as well wouldn't change anything. Especially since I could be charged for arson murder in conjunction with the murder now it was murder with arson.

"I was covering that I killed someone."

His eyes widened and he turned to look at me. I spared him a smile. "Why'd you kill someone?"

I hoped he was regretting riding with my right about now. Maybe thinking I could kill him too. Ha! He'd deserve that fear and panic. "Because he looked at me funny," I rolled my eyes. Too much truth was lethal. I didn't want to kill him by telling him about a drunken patron possessed by the spirit of a bull.

"Right. Fine you don't have to divulge your life secrets."

I scoffed, "Yeah, you want that buddy, you start sharin'."

"I don't do chick flick moments," he grumbled.

"Too bad for you," I responded.

He smirked, "Then go ahead and share your life story."

"Nah, it'd be like some cheesy movie and you'd be crying in seconds. 'Sides, I don't tell life stories."

He took that chance to roll his eyes, "Parrot me why don't you."

I took that moment to refuse to speak for a while. It was just my Hijacker and me, in a cheap, crappy Pontiac that smelled faintly of mint from a decrepit car freshener under my seat. The country songs had finally started to get less sorrowful and Carrie Underwood was singing about cheating. I noticed that my passenger winced at the part in the song where she engraved her name onto his pickup truck. He must have cheated at sometime and valued his vehicle. I eyed him curiously, for a brief moment, wondering if I'd just read too much into that brief reaction.

I decided it was warranted enough by the fact that his presence was here and he'd just tried to read into my life. I could try and gauge what his life was like. Completely and totally fair in my opinion.

I glanced over at him, guessing his age was probably around early thirties or so. "So… chasing after a runaway kid or something?" I inquired.

He half choked and offered me a scathing look, "Brother," he corrected unhappily. "Just keep driving already would you?" he exhaled tersely.

"Sorry, I have to stop and get gas. And stretch. God, just give me a break."

"You know, you could just stop and get out here and I'll drive on. Then come back and give you your car…" He trailed off as I pulled into a gas station.

"No," I snarled. I pulled out some cash and handed it to the attendant, not really caring if he cheated me out of some money. "This is my car, Hijacker. And I'll thank you to not steal this worthless piece of shit!" I turned to glare at him.

He sighed, "Whatever. Let me know if you're too tired to drive and I'll take over. Sorry, kid got the run on me you know? In a little bit of a rush."

As soon as the jockey was done, I was driving down the highway again to Place Unknown on a wild goose chase. And we were getting no closer to crossing into another state. Damn. I wanted to lose my hijacker and get out of this state. But it looked like we were only winding through this place. I guess I should've been happy that I was used to nightshifts and little sleep because it meant I didn't have to relinquish anymore of my control to Hijacker.

I kept my eyes on the road, focused on following the speed limit despite how much my passenger wanted me to speed like crazy. I kept to the limit like I kept the country music playing. Actually, I'd started to ignore it now and heard no noise. It was quite refreshing. Except for _his_ instructions. Since the gas station some miles back, he hadn't said a word aside from directions on where to drive. Sometimes I caught him muttering and it didn't take a long time to figure that he was just criticizing my driving. I threatened to toss him out at that point. He just threatened to call the police.

If arson in that one little town was my only crime, I would have been tempted to just toss him out of my car. But I did have orders to follow, and to follow them it kind of involved staying out of jail. And I had no doubt that I'd done more than enough that would result with me being in prison. I was hopeful that he would just disappear or I'd wake up to Rachel shaking me and discover that this was all just an infuriating dream.

But damn, it wasn't.

I kept driving, my eyes on where I was driving. I was hopeful that it wouldn't be long before I could lose this Hijacker. I wanted him out of my car. He didn't seem any happier about it either. He glanced down at his phone for like the millionth time and then sighed in sudden relief that caught me off guard. I glanced over at him unwillingly.

"He stopped driving. He's only a couple miles ahead."

"Then I get rid of you?" I asked hopefully, not bothering to disguise it.

"Yeah, I'll be outta your hair by then. Unless of course you want more of me." He shot me a wink.

I couldn't possible form my response through words, so I did something far easier and more natural. I gagged. And unfortunately for me, it seemed to provide him nothing but amusement while I'd been hoping to wound his ego. I suppose it was just too big by now that no one could deflate it. I narrowed my eyes as I drove on. There had to be someway to pop his ego and leave him cowering. Well maybe not cowering. But still, he needed a good kick to his ego. Actually, probably a couple other places too… I sighed silently, knowing that I wouldn't be the one to inflict those much-needed-injuries to his ego because I didn't want to chance having an assault charge laid at my feet.

Dawn was just starting over the horizon and he pointed out a small turn off that lead us to an old rundown motel. There was black Impala parked outside it and Hijacker seemed to sigh in relief as he spotted it. Excitement coursed through me as I realized that this meant. Hijacker was going to get out and then I could drive off and out of state and be free!

He had his hand on the door, "Well c'mon," he said impatiently.

"What?" My jaw dropped. No. No, no. I was going to drive away, that was all. He had to let go of all this now and let me be on my way but by the expression on his face that was the last thing he had on his mind.

"I need to be sure Sam's here. And in case he isn't and left his cell behind in the car, I'm still going to need a ride. He'll have hotwired my baby and it'll take time I don't have to fix her –come on!"

I jumped, accustomed to obeying such an authoritative person. But I chose not to, I chose to fight him and disagree. I had no reason to listen to him, to obey him. He was nobody in my life, just some crazy hijacker. He narrowed his eyes at me –ooh terrifying. I glared back.

"Your problem Hijacker, this is where I'm sayin' goodbye."

"I can still report you."

"Fuck you," I growled, getting out unwillingly, slamming my door.

"No thanks," he retorted with a smirk. "I like my girls to be pretty."

I stormed towards him, my only intention to go over to this egotist and knock some sense into him. However, he took that me walking over meant that I was obeying him. He flashed me another smirk and indicated that I was to go first. I contemplated running over to him and fighting, but with a miserable sigh I realized that I couldn't actually do that because it would result in an assault charge. Still. Goddamit! Couldn't his little brother be out of state?

So I reluctantly headed into the rundown cheap motel with Hijacker following right behind me. I hoped this wasn't going to be a true story that some horror movie based itself off of, because honestly it felt like one of those moments. Hijacker was going to follow me in then lead me off to a room where his brother was supposedly at, then he would kill me. And the audience watching the movie would laugh at my stupidity. Well I couldn't help it that I had no other choice.

If I wanted to progress in my life, I had to stay out of trouble and here in town. This was where my assignment was supposed to take place. It'd been a year since I heard anything about my targets. No one bothered to come by and fill me in on what was happening. I would have liked some updates every now and then, but I kept to what my last order had been. I'd survived in that stupid town for an entire year. Maybe it was time to leave but I had no proof of it and I was impatient of sticking around especially when I noticed monsters crawling the streets every night. Granted they were different monsters, but it didn't mean that I didn't feel bad for the ignorant humans they preyed on. And anyways, I certainly wasn't going to give my life up to one of them. They had no idea who I was. And that was just the way everything was supposed to be.

My records had now been arranged in such a way as to hide my past. A look at my recent history would have nothing questionable within it, except of course for the fire I had started. But so long as Hijacker didn't report me and Rachel didn't rat me out, everything would be fine. I had some faith that Rachel wouldn't do anything like that, she was accustomed to my behavior.

We entered into the boarded down building, and the fact that several wooden planks had been ripped off the door were evidence enough that there was recent activity here. I saw Hijacker pull out a blade of some sort, the tip coated in blood. It looked fresh. I cursed myself for having not noticed that he was carrying a weapon. Why it was coated in blood, I had no idea. I stared at him intently as he kicked the door open, trying to discern if he had any other weapons on him. I wondered if he was a Hunter. I hadn't encountered any, but I'd heard about plenty of them. And actually, I was looking for two in particular. Maybe I'd gotten lucky for once.

A smell unlike anything I've ever experienced before wafted over me, a stench disgustingly sweet and foul at the same time. Footprints led to the stairs, the dust elsewhere completely undisturbed. I could see marks that indicated someone had recently been dragged up the stairs. A few droplets of blood were on the floor. I supposed it was because I noticed the blood that might have given me away as being someone out of the ordinary. Hijacker flicked a flashlight on, and started upstairs. He made a complicated hand signal that I knew meant stay here. And just in case I was doubting what he meant, he mouthed the words to me as well.

I watched him go upstairs and turn to the right. Probably following the blood trail. I waited until he was out of sight before I started upstairs and followed some older tracks to the left. The scent seemed to get stronger as I followed upstairs. I glanced towards the right, watching briefly as he darted into the first room. I wandered down the hall and directly into the first room I found.

I took a brief breath, preparing myself and I inhaled a sickeningly sweet odor. One half-dead orange bulb dangled like an eyeball separated from its socket. It brightened abruptly, in a sudden surge and I discovered, to my horror, the origin of the nearly appetizing scent. Two dead girls hung from roped, levitating off the floor, tiny needles stuck in the sides of their throats. They'd been dead awhile and I couldn't hazard a guess as I ducked out of the room wondering at what kind of sicko had done this.

I darted into the hall and headed for another room. I wouldn't want this to happen to my worst enemy. It was too disgusting a fate to contemplate. The sound of glass shattering alerted me to the presence of Hijacker. With a regretful groan I raced towards where the noise had come from. I drew my throwing knives without a second thought. I wasn't about to leave Hijacker to this fate. It wasn't one anyone should have to suffer.

I spotted two shadows fighting each other; bodies within the room tangled in a fight, dancing across the room and blotting out the flashing orb of light, killing the shadows. I didn't hesitate as I hurried inside, throwing a well aimed knife into the tattooed man's shoulder. It startled both fighters but Hijacker recovered first and slammed his knife into the Djinn.

I caught sight of a tall man tied up, beside him another girl and a boy child hung. The man had a steady rise and fall to his chest. But the child didn't seem to be breathing… I unpinned my hair and jogged over to the kid, hurriedly picking the lock, desperately listening for the stirring of breath. I freed him and put my fingers to his neck, praying that I might find a pulse. Hijacker was using actual lock picks to free the woman and the man, who was presumably his brother and already coming out of a drugged stupor.

I hated Djinn. It hadn't been until I'd seen the tattooed man that I'd known what it was for sure. I had been a little worried that maybe it was some idiotic human trying to pretend it was a vampire. I was so relieved that it was a monster and not some psychotic wannabe vampire. Djinn were messy, disorganized killers. And they didn't care who they killed. I sighed miserably, swallowing hard as I drew away from the lifeless child. It wasn't right for this stuff to happen to kids, but at least he'd died happy. The girl Hijacker had saved didn't seem to be doing too well. She'd been here far too long and I was worried that she wouldn't pull through.

Hijacker seemed to agree but he still did his best to save her. At least she was around humans when she died. He looked over at me sharply.

"What the hell was that?" he gestured at the knife embedded in the body.

"Self-defense?" I replied hopefully.

"You could have been killed –"

"So could you," I growled. "So could he," I indicated the man I assumed was his brother.

His eyes narrowed, "Yeah but we do this all the time."

My eyes widened and I gasped. I think it was because he said "we" that tipped me off.

"Not like that!" he said hastily, misinterpreting my response. "He's just my brother."

I glanced at him in annoyance. Of course I knew that. Maybe it was because I recognized them finally. It'd been months since I'd heard of the Winchesters. Closer to a year, actually. Maybe I recognized them now, because I suddenly recalled that he'd called his brother Sam. But I knew who they were. Well who knew that waiting so long would actually pay off.

"I do this stuff all the time too asshole," I snarled.

A groan reminded me that we weren't the only people present and I looked over at the incapacitated man. He sat up slowly, rubbing his neck and blinking as he adjusted to the dim light and tried to perceive his surroundings. I couldn't help but wonder how long he'd been under the Djinn's power.

"D-Dean?"

Hijacker turned to look at him, unabashed concern flashing across his features. "Yeah?"

"They okay?" He was silent for a moment. I was content to leave it up to Hijacker to decide what to say. "Oh no… They died didn't they?" he groaned.

"Sam… It's okay."

"No it's not!" He sat up, rubbing at his head. He looked around and seemed to notice me or the first time. "Who are you…?"

Well I should have been flattered that at least he hadn't assumed I was some victim of the Djinn. "I'm his chauffer," I drawled.

He frowned suddenly, "Right. I had the Impala."

"Did you hotwire her?" Hijacker demanded, glaring at Sam.

"No… No I-I took the keys while you were asleep… What do you mean chauffer? Dean never lets anyone else drive."

I offered him a sardonic glower, "He does when he threatens them." I didn't feel it necessary to explain what he had threatened me with.

"Hey –I just told her I'd call the cops on her for burning down a bar."

Sam looked at me oddly, "Why did you burn down a bar?"

I sighed tersely and got to my feet. This was not the time or place to be having this conversation. "Look I-I don't think this is right." I covertly glanced at the bodies beside us. "I saw others."

Sam nodded solemnly and got to his feet. Hijacker glanced where I had looked. "I told you to wait downstairs."

"I helped you, whether you want to admit it or not," I snarled harshly. "Thanks are in order where due." I flipped my ponytail over my shoulder and strode downstairs.

Moments ago I would have been ecstatic that I was done with Hijacker. Or Dean Winchester, I suppose as that _was_ his name. But now my mission was to take place. And I was not looking forward to managing some half decent story, some way to keep close to them. I had one job to do. A very important one. I'd been waiting an entire year for these two idiots to show up. I knew that I was waiting for them, but it was their descriptions that threw me off.


	2. For Hire

For Hire

I hated my Pontiac. Have I mentioned that yet? Of course I have. Because whenever I most needed this piece of shit, it broke down on me. Dean wasn't happy with me, that much was obvious, and his brother still seemed dazed. I left first, wishing I could leave the Winchesters. But as I got in my little car, put the keys into the ignition and attempted to start it… Nothing happened. The little jerk and grumble I was so annoyed with never came. I frowned and against all rationale, I tried to start my Pontiac again. Nothing happened.

I knew practically nothing about how cars worked. I knew how to change tires though. Little things like I that, I knew how to do. I wasn't totally incompetent. At least not in my mind. I got out of my car and was walking towards the hood to see if I could see what was wrong. I knew that I wouldn't be able to see what was wrong anyways, but I thought it might have been worth a shot. I looked at it clueless as to what was wrong. My stupid, tiny car wasn't working.

Sam wandered out of the shabby motel, past me and over to the black Impala. He was definitely still out of it. He got into the passenger seat, closed the door and then promptly leaned against it. As near as near as I could tell, his eyes seemed to be closed. I wondered what he'd seen. How long he'd been out, trapped in a fantasy world of his choosing. The Djinn were powerful but they were also twisted and evil. The wishes they granted brought no one comfort.

I stared blankly at the gizmos under the hood. I hadn't an inkling what any of them did. Nothing was steaming or burning or even screaming "I'm the problem –fix me!" I sorta wished one of the parts would. It'd be easier to identify the problem then. And sometimes finding out what the problem was, made it easier to solve.

I glanced around the hood, spotting the oldest Winchester toss a lighter into the motel. He watched it a moment before flames started eating away at the wood. Dean turned away and I went back to staring at the gadgets that vehicles work. Maybe if I looked long enough, I would suddenly understand. I wasn't holding onto that hope though.

"You know anything about auto-mechanics?" his gruff voice sounded from beside me.

I moved aside for him. "Maybe."

He stepped forward, surveying the internals of my Pontiac. "The transmission's been torn out… Your car won't be running until you get a new one."

I looked over at him in openmouthed shock. "And how does one go about losing such an essential piece?"

Dean shrugged, "Whoever took it shoddily removed it. Some other parts have damage to them as well… This was brutally done." He stepped back and closed the hood.

"Why?" I asked, staring at my car with a sinking sense of dread.

"Like I know?" he growled. "Answer that yourself."

I stared at my car helplessly. What was I supposed to do? But I already knew and I wished I didn't. "C-can I get a ride with you?"

"Are you freakin' kiddin' me?"

I narrowed my eyes at him. "I'll report _your_ arson. And your hijacking."

It seemed like he was about to protest again, but he paused with an exasperated sigh. "Is there anyone you can call? Someone else who might be able to come get you?"

"I-I can try…" I went around to the trunk and searched through my stuff for my other cell.

Its purpose was just for one thing. To phone my employer. That's what she was, more or less. I speed dialed my only contact; currently, the enigmatic Ms. Chrissie. I waited nervously, the ringing continuing. I hoped that she would pick up, if only to remind me what was at stake. Hearing her voice, learning about my family wouldn't be too bad either. I hoped they were alright.

"What is it?"

"My car broke down."

"I know."

I winced, "So you…"

"Yeah I took the transmission. You need to get closer to them Andie, this is a way to do it. You're down to a number of months. I thought they'd be there earlier."

"O-okay then. Um h-how is everyone…?"

"Andie!" she barked. "This is not a family call –they're fine. And they'll continue to be if you do this. If you succeed, they'll be even better! Now get to it." With that she hung up.

I noticed Dean leaning against his Impala and I kept my phone to my ear. Feeling idiotic, I continued the conversation with no one on the other line. "Can you come pick me up…?" I sighed, "No, its okay. I understand. Uh-huh. Okay, bye." I hung up and tossed my phone back into my bag.

I kept it on at all times so that Chrissie could find me whenever she needed to. Or whenever she wanted to. I liked to keep her happy. It would mean better for me. But it wasn't necessary. Her happiness with me had no reflection on my performance. So long as I got the job done, that was what mattered. It wasn't like I was on some kiddy mission. I'd finally gotten the big chance that I'd been waiting for.

I walked towards Dean a bit, stopping halfway from my car and to him. I flipped my ponytail over my shoulder, annoyed with the wind. "Um, I can't get a ride. My sister's busy." It was close enough to the truth… Haha…

Dean paused and then nodded, he exhaled tersely. "Okay, get your stuff. We'll drop you off at home."

I paused. I didn't exactly have a home to go to. I didn't look _that_ young did I? I wasn't a teenager. I was in my early twenties. Then again they probably just assumed I had a stable home or dorm room or something. I had nothing. Been renting a place for a year, but I'd just been evicted. I had everything I needed in my leather suitcase in the back. Aside from what was left in my Pontiac, my weapons cache. I'd needed some stable place to store them, and although I didn't have a lot of weapons, just the bare minimum, I had some that I would be leaving behind. Thankfully.

I yanked my small leather suitcase out of the trunk, placing my throwing knives inside it. I wasn't all that sentimental, but I valued my knives. They were expensive and I'd bought them with my own hard work. I wasn't going to leave them behind. I enjoyed my knives and I was best at knife fighting. I was a fair shot with guns, but I did try to avoid using them. My knives were just easier, second nature almost.

Dean grabbed my suitcase from my, grunting at the unexpected weight. It was small, but it could pack a lot. I smiled tentatively and he tossed my bag into the trunk with his stuff. I wondered if he felt like he owed me since I'd driven him here and even helped him save his brother. I didn't expect that if I pushed for more, that he would let me stick around. I was a nobody to him. Currently, it was my job to be something more valuable on the way to what my real purpose was. If only it were simpler.

I got into the back of the Impala, trepidation fluttering through my heart. I had to get close to these two because that was the only way that I would have a chance to perform the mission I'd been given. And I had every intention of fulfilling it and bringing pride to my family. If I brought them pride, it would show everyone else that I wasn't such a waste of flesh and time. I could be someone important. That was all I wanted. I didn't think it was so bad to want that.

It was family connections that made all of this possible. In her host, she'd come to see me and I knew that she was going to share her secret mission with me. I was going to have the chance to be the best that I could be, prove to my adopted family that I was worth it. I was going to make them proud if it was the last thing I did.

The only catch was that I had to kill someone I didn't even know. Chrissie helped with that part. She was clever and already had experience around the guy I needed to kill. First I would have to get close to him, get him to lower his guard. And then I could kill him, have my honor and redeem my family for adopting the little weakling human. It was the most important thing I could do for my family. And besides, we'd all suffered enough on behalf of these men. I'd be doing the others a favor too. So I accepted Chrissie's offer eagerly, and here I was, in the backseat of the Impala, trying to think of a way to stay with them longer.

I could hear Sam snoring quietly as Dean drove down the highway. He flicked his radio on, glancing over at me with the ghost of a smile hovering on his lips. So this was the kind of music he liked, understandable why country music was torture for him. But he deserved it for hijacking my car.

"So where do you live?" he asked quietly. It was ironic, the music was fairly loud and I could only faintly hear him but he was considerate enough of his exhausted brother to whisper a question to me.

I smiled softly to myself and shook my head. "I don't have a home. Go wherever you're going and just drop me off at a nearby inn or something. I'll be fine."

He glanced at me through the rearview mirror, disbelief and flashing in his eyes. I tensed, unable to help myself at the look in his cool blue eyes. I looked down at my lap.

"Are you a Hunter?" he asked, looking back at the road.

"N-not exactly…" I knew that if I lied and said yes, he'd be checking with his other Hunter colleagues and my lie would be found out quickly.

"Then what are you?"

"Someone who wants to help?"

"You'll get yourself killed doing this kid."

I glared at him. "I am not that young," I paused. "Or are _you_ just that old?"

Dean looked back at me, a scandalized expression flashing across his features for a second. "I am not that old!" he hissed.

I shrugged playfully, "Coulda fooled me old man."

He glared in annoyance, "So what are you, aside from a "helper"?" He practically spat the word.

I shrugged vaguely, "I'm just a kid, what do I know about who I am?" I smirked at him, watching his expression through the rearview mirror. He suppressed a grimace from the looks of it.

"How old are you then?" he asked resignedly.

"Twenty-four," I informed him proudly.

"And you've been doing this for how long now?" he sounded almost patronizing.

I paused briefly, considering. "As long as I can remember," I murmured quietly. It seemed like he did more lip reading than actually hearing me.

It was quiet for awhile. Sam's snoring and the rhythmic pounding of the hard rock music easing the awkwardness of my presence just a bit. I rubbed at my eyes tiredly. Even if I was used to graveyard shifts, I was usually asleep by now. It was almost ten in the morning. My sleep schedule was wrecked by now. I suspected it had more to do with the adrenaline and intrigue that I'd managed to stay up for so long.

Dean silently turned the music down a little. I adjusted my seatbelt slightly, leaning against the door, my head resting against the glass. Darkness swooped down on me, and I was only dimly aware of the movement of the car and soft music playing. Eventually that awareness seeped away and there was nothing.

"…keep her with us."

"She saved your life."

"There has to be another reason –how coincidental can it be that you need a ride and pick up a helper?" he hissed harshly.

I shifted slightly, rubbing at my eyes and yawning quietly as I woke up. I frowned worriedly, my surroundings greatly different from when I had fallen asleep. It was late afternoon and my charges were no longer in sight, but I could hear them.

"I'm not saying we take her with us, just that she needs a place to stay." Annoyance was obvious in Dean's gravelly voice.

I sat up, pushing the covers aside. Wow, someone had sure been taking care of me. I was at least still dressed the same. Nothing here seemed out of place, except for me. And my suitcase wasn't here. I reached for where I kept one of my knives concealed and discovered it missing. Panic swamped me and I reached for another, and then another. All of my knives were gone, missing just like that. I leapt to my feet, my foot getting tangled in the sheets and rather than face planting into the floor, I managed to slam my weight onto one knee into the rough carpet.

Abruptly the argument next door cut off and my door was pushed open. I could see into their larger, shared room and they into my cramped quarters. I stood back up, the mild pain in my knee nothing as I kicked my foot free, scowling at the Winchesters as they peered concernedly into my room.

"Where's my stuff? Where're my knives?" I snarled.

The brothers exchanged a silent look, communicating God-knows-what. But I didn't have time for it. I barely restrained myself from childishly stomping my foot. I treasured my knives for their practical use and the situations I'd been in with them. Also, my parents had given them to me for this job and I meant to make sure that they served their purpose. It was the only thing they'd given me. I was cut off from speaking with them until I completed my mission.

Dean stepped aside and after a brief hesitation, Sam did as well. I walked between them and into their room. "You have no right to take my things!" I growled, surveying their room.

"Actually, we do," Sam said quietly.

"So it's fine for your brother to hijack my car, threaten me, and then for you to steal my stuff?"

"How do we know what your intentions are?" Sam retorted logically. "What are the odds that you pick my brother up, _let_ him hijack your car, go into a creepy motel and help us out? Not very likely. And I say let, because obviously you know how to use your knives. You carried, what, seven on your person?"

"Thirteen," I corrected automatically, ignoring Dean's annoyed glance at his brother. I supposed Sam was making a reasonable case. "You want me to be able to explain random coincidence to you?"

"Yeah."

"Well I can't –" Sure I could've got a university degree if I'd wanted, but it wasn't going to be in math and I hadn't gone in the first place. I'd been destined for other things, hence my mission.

"Neither can I, and until then, there's no reason to trust you. So take your knives and get out."

I blinked in surprise. I thought Sam was the nice one. "I don't have anywhere to go and where I could go, I can't get to."

"We'll drive you if the bus can't take you," he replied harshly.

"Sam!"

I stepped back. I didn't understand what I'd done wrong. It wasn't possible that he knew of my mission. It wasn't like he knew my name. He couldn't know who I was.

Dean walked over and pulled my suitcase out from under a bed. I was sure it was Sam's. His younger brother didn't say anything but he most certainly wasn't happy. Dean held my suitcase out to me, his expression neutral.

"Thanks," I retorted curtly.

I took my bag and retreated to my room. I figured they wanted privacy to sort out their issues and although I would be able to hear every word they said, they'd be alone. My presence wouldn't interfere with them.

I sat down on my bed, opening my suitcase and checking my knives. I pulled out the ones they'd taken from me and proceeded to conceal them back on my person.

**II**

Dean dragged Sam out of the motel they'd checked into. He suspected that the girl would have been able to hear them. And obviously whatever Sammy had to say was pretty important for him to be this worked up over that girl. Somehow he doubted it would have been caused by hormones.

"Care to tell me what that was all about?" he growled, not even bothering to look back at his brother.

"No."

"Sammy come on, there's something going on. I mean I don't like her either but her car broke down and it's not like it's hurting us to give her a place to stay." If he were honest with himself, he might admit that he felt slightly responsible for her Pontiac breaking down on her. It hadn't been an easy drive for an old car like that, and it'd already had a few issues on its own.

"Dean, you have to see that this _can't_ be coincidence," he attempted to protest.

"Quit hiding behind that lie already," he snapped.

"I just don't like her, alright?"

He narrowed his eyes, "What're you keeping from me this time Sammy?"

Sam glanced away. Bingo. He was definitely hiding something. And it was important if he was being this secretive and worked up over it.

"Nothing."

"Sam…"

"Just drop it!"

"Kinda hard to when she's traveling with us Sammy," he growled. What was he so determined to hide?

Sam stiffened, turning towards him as he straightened. "Fine! You want to know? The truth. Ruby let slip awhile ago that someone hired an assassin, someone who would get under our skin and kill us while we slept."

He paused, "And you don't tell me this till now?"

"I assumed they'd try to get to me. I was going to take care of it Dean," he muttered.

"Damn it Sam! Woulda been nice to know earlier. I would've stolen a taxi or –"

"And gotten the law on your trail. Geez, at least this way there aren't any cops. It's all just too neat and tidy. Too coincidental."

"Well no doubt. Ruby let slip who it was that was after us?"

"No, and she seemed quite upset she'd said it. I haven't heard from her since."

Dean sighed and rubbed his hand across his face. "Well… We can't cut her loose then. There's no telling what she'll do, assuming she _is_ this assassin. We don't exactly need her sneaking up on us."

"Then you'll just keep her with us?"

"Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, right?" he grinned, a little forced. "She doesn't look all that dangerous anyways."

Sam grimaced, "Since when do looks manage to decide a person's strength?"

"Well there's not much else we can do. Maybe we can get her on our side and she'll tell us who hired her. I'm not expecting much though," he exhaled tersely and then grinned. "Bet she can't hold off against our charm anyways. We'll get her story."

Sam smiled tentatively, "I don't like this Dean. If this all goes wrong…"

"One of us'll be dead. Won't be the first time, but at least this way we've got warning." He rolled his shoulders idly.

"Yeah but…"

"I won't trust her anytime soon either. Especially not turning my back on her. She's good with her knives and has a shitload of them."

"And we know where she keeps her knives."

"I didn't even know someone could fit that many knives on their body," Dean chuckled. "Gotta admit some of those places were pretty ingenious though."

"I think we're pretty lucky that we escaped her wrath from that. More focused on getting her knives back," Sam snorted, turning back towards the hotel.

"Yeah and hopefully she won't get too concerned about how we got the knives off her and noticed them."

"It was an accident."

"Yeah _riiight_."

"Oh come on Dean! I didn't mean to almost drop her; I was still a little out of it. That Djinn messed with my mind."

"You keep telling yourself that," he chuckled.

Sam shot him an irritated glance.

* * *

_Reviews are much appreciated and always loved :)_

_The Roman numerals will be used to divide between Andrea's POV and Dean's POV whenever I switch and will reflect the current chapter number. Unless I write a whole lot of chapters and can't keep track of the proper Roman numerals for it._

_Have a good day!_


	3. What can a Helper do?

What can a Helper do?

I was sitting on my bed, staring at my hands idly. I'd honestly expected them to fight it out in their room but they weren't doing that at all. I heard their door open and I looked out of mine towards them. Neither Winchester looked particularly happy to see me. What was up with that? I had to wonder if Sam had somehow managed to convince Dean that I wasn't trustworthy. And it wasn't like they could possibly know…

"Hey," Sam said tentatively, smiling slightly. "Sorry about… Earlier. It was something I saw."

"It's okay," I told him, getting to my feet and moving towards him.

"We were never really introduced… I'm Sam Winchester."

"Andie Hamilton," I told him with a soft smile. I'd forgotten that I wasn't actually supposed to _know_ who he was. Then again these were the infamous Winchesters, it was reasonable for me to know them.

I lingered in the doorway of my adjoining room, unsure what was going on. If they were just going to leave me here and pack up and leave. I had no idea how I was going to keep myself with them. It was rather frustrating that I didn't know what to do. I'd spent months planning and none of the scenarios I'd thought of were applicable here.

"And I'm Dean Winchester… But you already knew that didn't you?" he mocked.

Sam turned to look back at him with an irritated glance. Seriously, had these guys just done a total one eighty or what? Or maybe they'd switched personalities. I didn't understand. I looked between them confusedly, worriedly.

"Did I do something wrong?" I was more worried that I'd done something wrong than them having had something wrong occur to them.

"No, no, nothing like that. I just shared some bad news with Dean is all and now he's got my bad mood."

"I… see."

Just then my cell phone went off at the same time that one of theirs did. I didn't hesitate, racing back to my room and diving for my suitcase. I searched through it desperately before pulling out my cell phone, flicking it open and placing against my ear. I was hopeful that it was my family. Maybe the rules had been changed and they could talk to me.

"Hello?" I couldn't help the edge of hope in my voice.

"I've got work for you to do, in case the Winchesters don't get word of it, feed them a paper trail."

"Oh, okay…" My hope was diminished completely. I forgot that Chrissie also possessed my usual cell phone number.

"Some vampires in Nebraska are getting a little carried away. A town just got massacred, you're a few hours away. Hurry there. And remember your job, make sure you're one of them before you do anything."

"I know, I know. But why?"

"The biggest impact Andie. You need them to be yours, and the emotional connection has to go both ways."

"Or what?" I asked quietly.

"Or what? You pathetic excuse for a human! How dare you question me?"

I flinched, stammering apologies as I looked out towards the Winchesters, afraid they could hear this conversation. But they appeared to be engrossed in their chat on the phone. Sam was busy searching online by the appearance and I shut the adjoining door just as Chrissie's yelling finally died down.

"I'm sorry, I realize I am not worthy enough to question you."

"Good and you'd better keep it in mind. You want to be one of us, Andrea Saint Clemence? Then get your act straight and kill that boy. You want your family to be proud, honored and to talk to you? Then kill the pitiful man."

"Y-yes of course."

"I know everything you want, I know everything you are Andrea. I gave you this chance to prove yourself, and if you are not up to the task, there are others I will have complete it."

"I'll do it. I'll do it all."

"As it should be. Remember win them over, let them win you over."

I hesitated, "But then I won't want to kill them."

"Precisely. By then, however, all my plans will be aligned and you just need to use one of your pretty little knives to kill Dean Winchester. Then we'll talk."

"How will I know when?" I interjected hastily.

"The signs will be clear enough. Marissa May Faith will be able to provide clarity, go to her when you think you're ready. But remember I've got eyes on you Andrea; don't kill them 'till you're ready or your dreams go up in smoke. And destroy this cell phone." With that, as brisk as ever, Chrissie hung up.

I didn't waste any time to follow her orders. I memorized the name Marissa May Faith as I disassembled my cell phone. The microchips and other memory pieces I crushed into a fine dust. It took awhile but they were blissfully small and my boots had a heel that made short work of the pieces. I jumped at the soft knock on my door. I tossed the empty shell of my cell phone under my bed and gave whoever it was permission to enter my room.

Sam opened my door a little bit at first and then all the way. "We need to go to Nebraska, there's some… trouble."

"Supernatural?"

"Always." There was a wry twist of his lips.

I nodded and grabbed my bag, exiting my room. Dean appeared to have just finished packing while Sam's stuff was already gathered up. I felt a little out of place and smiled hesitantly. Because smiling was supposed to make everything feel better and I was hoping I wouldn't feel as out of place anymore. Sadly that didn't really work out all that well, unsurprisingly.

Dean glanced over at me as he set his duffle bag on his bed. "You said you were a helper. What exactly does that entail?"

"It means I know about the world you live in… I know a little bit about everything and I've spent my life learning how to fight and strategize, more or less. I'm best with knives, so typically if a Hunter needs some extra help and the monster can be killed with a blade, I'll go with them. I help Hunters."

It wasn't the truth, not really. Heck, not even by a long shot. But it was a decent enough story. I knew that if they knew the truth they'd never believe me. No one would. Some of my own family didn't. It was a little hurtful sometimes too, but I was determined and that was all that mattered. With the right amount of determination I could do anything. It was a comforting thought even though it was by no means close to the truth.

"We need to somehow gauge your strength," Sam said, glancing at Dean as he started to pull furniture out of the way.

"My show with the Djinn not enough?" I inquired and proceeded to help him. "What's it mean if I'm strong enough?"

"You can tag along with us until you get a place to stay at," Dean replied gruffly.

"Fair enough."

The brothers had cleared away a space in the hotel room. It wasn't quite big enough but I would have to make do with it, same with whomever was going to fight me. And considering that they were both so tall I didn't envy them of their discomfort if it was so unappealing for me. I slipped my thin jacket off, draping it over the arm of the couch before taking my fighting stance.

Dean moved into the ring, glancing at me as he rolled his sleeves up. I smiled crookedly, wondering if he was just trying to look intimidating or something. I didn't have time for another thought because as soon as Sam took a step back, he was charging me. I ducked the punch he never threw and barely blocked his second fist as I came swinging for where my head now was located and his leg swept out towards my feet.

I narrowly jumped out of the way, a squeak of surprise escaping my lips as he attempted to punch me again. I only half blocked the first blow, the second one slamming into my shoulder and knocking me off balance. I staggered a bit and he was attacking me again, relentlessly.

I struggled to defend myself from his assault, knowing it was hopeless and that if I continued I would lose. I kept moving away from him, trying to not get cornered. I didn't have a lot of hope that his stamina would wear thin anytime soon. Despite that, I was defending myself adequately.. I took several bruises and his sheer strength was wearing me down.

I ducked a blow and shoulder rolled away from him, leaping to my feet and lunging at him. I slammed my fist into his side as I wrapped my leg around his and pulled. He grabbed hold of my wrist and twisted athletically, dragging me down to the floor with him. I writhed, barely managing to get my leg up in time and kneed him in the gut. He got lucky 'cos that wasn't where I was aiming.

His hold on me loosened and I shoved him onto his side, straddling his chest as I drew my favorite knife and pressed it against his throat. Aside from our rather heavy breathing, there wasn't a sound in the room. I kept my eyes on his, trying to force my will on him and have him concede that I won. His green-blue irises glared at me, absolute loathing reflecting my image back at me.

He exhaled tightly, the fury in his eyes vanishing as he closed them. "Not too bad."

I smirked, "To be fair if you'd kept that barrage up, I wouldn't have lasted much longer."

"And if Dean had fought dirty, you would've lost," Sam remarked dryly.

I sheathed my knife and got off Dean's chest hastily. Small size certainly had its advantages. "I'm sorry, I did it without thinking. My knives are second nature…"

"It's fine," Dean grumbled. "A good example of your abilities." He got to his feet.

"Good enough to stick around?" I couldn't help the note of hope in my voice.

"Yeah," he replied absently as he looked at his brother.

"Where are we going next?"

They exchanged a silent look and Sam answered my question. "Nebraska, a little place called Richmond, only a few hours away."

"What's going on there?" Even though I already knew, it would have been suspicious if I didn't ask.

"Vampires," Dean replied cautiously, watching my expression warily. Had they encountered so few people aware they doubted my knowledge?

"They wiped out a town not too far away."

"So we're going to exterminate them?"

"We're the closest Hunters to them, so yeah."

"Do you know how to kill vampires?" Sam asked, turning to look at me.

"Behead them?" I replied instantly, wondering if maybe they'd found out about a different way to kill them that was just as effective or something. "Dead man's blood works great to incapacitate them…"

Sam and Dean both nodded. "I guess there's not much else to go over…"

"Then let's head to Richmond and get those vampires stopped." I smiled warmly at them. "And yes, I know how to use a machete."

"I think we'll just have you use some dead man's blood. You're probably fast enough for it."

I stared wide-eyed at them. That was dangerous… Unless they meant this in some way that I had misunderstood. But if I just dipped my knives in blood and attacked, I was going to be in the middle of the fight with the two of them coming along behind me, beheading the vampires as I went. I'd never taken such an active role in a fight before. But if that was what I had to do… Then I guess I'd be doing it, despite how much I disliked the thought of it.

I numbly took my bag and headed outside of the room. I lingered for a second at the door, straining to hear what they had to say, hoping they would say something worthwhile for me to eavesdrop on. I hoped they had a plan, other than just throwing me out there like cannon fodder.

"Dean… She might not live through it. It's kind of dangerous."

"Well, she needs to prove herself. And I'm sure she can hold her own, and if she can't…"

"She's still a living person," Sam hissed.

Dean sighed, "I didn't say we wouldn't help her. We can keep her alive, save her."

Probably, I thought. I sighed and started off down the hall. No one had ever told me that this was going to be easy. Actually, they'd told me it was going to be hard. But I hadn't been told these two could swap personalities nor that they would use me as bait. Actually, Chrissie had specifically told me that Sam would be the one to make sure I was alright and when he didn't, or wouldn't, that Dean would. Seemed that was certainly one great big lie.

I took a deep breath. I would just have to prepare myself. And keep close to those boys so they could protect me. That was my plan, despite whatever ones they had set up. I wasn't going to let them kill me or use me as bait to leave to die. Well hopefully not. I didn't think they were like that though, even if they hated me. But maybe… I took a deep breath as I waited at the Impala.

* * *

_What do you think will happen next? What would you like to see happen next? I'd love your opinions! _

_Have a great day! :)_


	4. Vampire Bait

Vampire Bait

I can honestly say that I hate vampires. We passed through the massacred town. There was nothing left except for some burning remains. It seemed that after the vampires had killed their victims they'd burned down the town. The police that were present passed us by with little to report as Sam and Dean flashed some badges. We didn't need to hear the reports of how they died, but it was alarming, at least to me, when they said that the majority of the residents had not been found yet. It meant that they were captives by the large vampire group, so we had humans to save as well as vampires to kill.

We pulled into Richmond at early evening. It wasn't the most strategic time to be in a town full of vampires, but it was an emergency job. The ride here and been quiet. I assumed it was probably more or less caused by my presence. I disliked the silence immensely, but even more so for knowing that I was just going to be used as bait to draw the vampires out.

The Winchesters had discussed what they were going to do after we'd left the burned down village. It'd been decided that I would serve as bait, and they'd wait until I was picked up and then follow me back to the vampires' hideout. My knives were all coated in dead man's blood and I was ready to be taken to the slaughterhouse. I had no legitimate reason to argue against them. Except of course for the fact that this could cost me my life. But my life was already forfeit anyways. I would just obediently jump through every burning hoop they put before me.

If I died, it would be of no harm to my family. If I failed, they would never be able to look the same at the world again. If I succeeded, everything I wanted would be mine. Even though what I wanted was ridiculous, I still wanted it more than anything. I'd grown up hearing about it, being the outcast, the oddball. Everyone else could do amazing things but I was just a human. A worthless little no body. My family and their friends extended their patience to me and this was going to show them that I'd done everything right. I'd show them that I was someone they could be proud of.

The two brothers parked outside a small diner and sent me in. I had orders to get them food and to watch for any suspicious activity. Needless to say, I found some the minute I walked through the doors.

I noticed the group immediately. If someone ever asked me who could be classified as suspicious, it was these people. There was no one more suited to such a description. Granted, I'd been expecting something more but I wasn't going to argue about it. It made my job that much easier. I ordered a bacon cheeseburger and fries for Mr. Dean Winchester, a tofu veggie burger for Mr. Sam Winchester and a BLT sandwich for me. As I waited for our orders to come around, sipping at my coffee as I scanned over the local newspaper, out of the corner of my eye I watched the suspicious group with an almost paranoid fascination.

There were five of them and I was certain that they had more to their group holed up somewhere. One woman was seated at the table, her long nails painted bloody red with her long hair cascading down her back as she laughed at her the waiter, pushing her voluptuous chest out, her eyes watching him hungrily. The four men gathered at that table were all eyeing up the innocent waiter, licking their lips like starving wolves as they shifted subtly, circling him.

I slid two knives coated in dead man's blood from my boots, keeping my eyes on the newspaper as though engrossed in it. I was grateful that their attention was on the vampires, it let me escape notice as I shifted slightly, pretending to stretch when I was really just getting a better look at the vampiric group who were slowly trapping the poor waiter. He was too busy looking at the woman's breasts when he should have noticed that it was a trick.

"They've got guns!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, hoping to get the innocents out of the way without harm. They scattered unsurprisingly as I got to my feet and planted both knives into two vamps' backs.

The others leaped up, whirling to face me and I drew another pair of knives while the humans screamed and ran outside. I could hope for back up but I wasn't really expecting much. I threw my knives, and another vampire went down but not the one I had been aiming at. They still had enhanced speed and my advantage of surprise was wearing thin. There were only two functioning ones left, the woman and some blonde bastard.

"What do you think you are doing?" hissed the female in a slightly accented voice. It alerted me to the fact that she was old, very old.

"You can't go around massacring towns. Hunters _do_ exist."

"And I suppose you're one?" drawled the man.

I glared at him, flashing a gleaming blade in each hand. "What do you think?"

"Don't move Desmond," growled the woman, tossing her auburn hair over her shoulder as she cocked her head to the side and looked at me. "She isn't a Hunter. She's masquerading as one, hoping the two actual Hunters leave their car to come save her. She knows she can't beat us. We're faster and stronger."

My eyes widened in surprise. Since when had vampires been able to read minds?

"And they're not coming to save you. They know what you've been up to. Oh, you naughty girl. Planning an assassination? Because why…?"

I slammed a mental barrier up, focusing immediately on thoughts of killing the vampires. There were certain benefits to having a psychic for a best friend. You learned how to defend yourself at least. And this vampire certainly was not happy to see that I knew how to protect my mind.

"Get out of my head," I growled, turning my focus onto my knives. What I could do with them, how I would use them. Basic things. Things I went to bed dreaming about. Lopping off vampire heads. That sorta stuff.

"Desmond… Kill her."

The blonde launched towards me and I whirled throwing a blade at him. He deftly twisted out of the way, avoiding my knife. I glared and she launched herself at me, both of them drawing their extra row of teeth down. I screeched as I yanked out another blade, dropping to the ground as I blindly thrust my knife towards them in hopes that I would land a blow and incapacitate one of them. My blades cut through air and I rolled over my shoulder, sensing them descending towards me.

The woman hoisted me up by my hair before I could jump out of my roll. She tapped several pressure points and my knives fell from my hands as my arms dropped to my sides completely useless. She grabbed me by my hips and shoved me over to the blonde. His hands slammed over my hips with bruising force as he threw me over his shoulder, his hand positioned just right as to prevent me from moving my legs. I was hanging half over his back unfortunately, but there was nothing I could do.

The woman disappeared from my sight, moving too fast for my eyes to register and the next thing I knew… I wasn't in the diner. It was such a disturbing feeling, a sense of blurring surroundings and flying skies and I was somewhere else entirely. I didn't even have enough time to register what was going on as I was thrown into the back cab of a truck and the vampires took the driver and passenger seats and then we were driving off like any other regular person might.

I took advantage of my brief freedom, refusing to be some victim as I slammed my feet into the back of the driver's seat. The truck gave a satisfying swerve and I kicked the seat again, using both my feet. Abruptly he slammed on the brakes and with a startled cry my face collided with my knees and I fell off the seat. The female vampire grabbed me with one hand around my throat, she bared her teeth and my consciousness faded as an aching pain surrounded my body.

IV

Dean blinked groggily, rubbing at his eyes with an over exaggerated yawn at Sam's incessant chatter. He glanced over at him, talking on the phone rapidly with someone. Sam caught his eye and finished up his conversation quickly, hanging up with a quick thanks.

He looked at the diner idly, his stomach growling impatiently. It seemed like it'd been a long time since he'd sent the girl off to get them food. Was she waiting until it was ice cold or something? He glanced at his watch and his eyes widened in surprise.

"Seriously? An hour? What is it in there, a gourmet restaurant?"

"She got kidnapped five minutes ago Dean," Sam quipped bitchily. "I got the license plate number and its GPS coordinates. They're heading south. We have to get her back…"

"And she'll lead us to the nest. Two birds with one stone."

"At what cost?" Sam growled. "Her life?"

Dean shrugged as he turned the key in the ignition, hearing her come to life. "She's the one who's trying to kill us."

"We haven't seen any proof of that!"

"You were pretty against her when we picked her up," Dean reminded him as he backed out of the parking lot.

"Go south," Sam directed. "Yeah, that was before she actually listened to our crazy scheme! I mean I know Bobby told us to try it out, to test her but shit, this is crazy. She could die!"

"She could be guilty."

"We sure as hell aren't fit to judge what she's done Dean!"

"Would you just calm down?" he snapped. "We'll go see that psychic he sent us to if she survives this. It's as good a test as any if Bobby trusts the woman."

"Dean she took down three vampires in that diner."

He glanced at Sam, "So? We've dealt with more than that before."

"She's down at least three knives. Ten knives against how many vamps? Twenty? Thirty? She's on her own because we let her get taken."

"Whoa, PMS-ing much Samantha? One minute you're all against her, now you're all for her?"

"How much can we trust Ruby? She _is_ a demon…"

"She's saved our life. This might be another one of those situations."

"Or maybe not." Dean frowned at him. "I find it hard to believe she's an assassin. She _just_ let herself get taken as bait! She probably could have killed us instead, especially if she is a hired killer."

"Do you like her or something?" he snapped.

"No!" Sammy took a deep breath. "I just don't want us playing God with her life Dean. And that's exactly what we're doing right now, like what it seems everyone else has been doing to us."

Dean frowned as he stared at the highway stretching out before him. He didn't have the right to judge her. Or control and manipulate and test her like some lab rat. But it was his responsibility to keep Sammy safe, and even to live himself. He wasn't going to let some doe-eyed assassin take all that away from him. Granted, he would have to go out on a limb. And as much as he hated and distrusted psychics, if Bobby trusted in one, and said Dad had too, then there was something trustworthy to work with to provide a definite answer on their mystery girl.

He pressed on the gas, almost breaking the speed limit. He wasn't going to let that girl die. If he'd thought she couldn't handle herself, he wouldn't have sent her out. She was still just a _girl_ despite everything. And until he had proof, apparently he had to set aside his mistrust. Which left open a few other realms of possibility. Possibilities that he liked a lot. He grinned lasciviously.

* * *

_Sorry it took me so long to update and it's not really as long as I meant it to be. Sigh. But I brought Dean's view back :D_

_I'm looking forward to writing more._

_And if you're curious about what season this is, it's sort of become a mix of all of them sadly... It's SUPPOSED to be season 3. _

_I'm so happy that Sammy's finally back. And I'm sorry that his personality is a little confusing. At least I think it is. This is supposed to be season 3 but I don't quite want it exactly as season 3. So there's this mingling and meshing going on instead. _

_If you want to see something specific happen, please let me know. I love feedback, it makes my day. I get super excited to see it. _

_And I'm having a really bad day today. I had to chase after my bus. In winter. Like a foot of fresh snow on top of ice. My bus came ten minutes late and I was waiting where it usually stopped, but instead of stopping there, it kept going and stopped a ways away in the distance so I had to try and run after it. And unlike some smart kind of thing to do, like yknow, waiting for any stragglers, my bus kept driving. And driving. I ran after it for a long distance, through mounds of snow over ice and I was half falling and it just miserable . I managed to catch it thanks to a kind guy who knew me and smacked the side of the bus to get it to stop because I was too far away._

_There's my rant, that's all to my life. _


	5. Marissa the Psychic

The Psychic Marissa

Marissa straightened abruptly, shooing her customer away as she heard the car pull up. She grimaced, putting her hand to her head as she tried to fight the vision off but to no success.

_Andrea was being hauled off by a blonde man and he roughly tossed her into a filthy straw covered cage where another dozen people were cowering, dried blood on their faces, eyes darting around. Andrea was unconscious as she hit the floor._

Marissa looked towards the door before it opened and invited the men in, unsurprised to see them. It was a little odd to see them in person, especially since she'd been having visions of them since she was a little girl and she knew how their lives would map out. She smiled shyly as they approached her darkened living room, both of them looking around with great suspicion, expecting ghosts to jump out from behind the curtains.

She went over to the curtains and opened them a crack, blowing out the candles she'd lit to make her seem more genuine to people who didn't believe in everything. She knew that these two didn't believe, but that they would and that her peculiar fake looking things wouldn't help her out. She used them only because it helped her have something to do, something else to focus on. She didn't need any of it, typically a minute with a skeptic and she'd turned them into believers.

"Please, sit down."

"No thanks, I'd rather stand," Dean retorted, looking around the place in distaste. Sam hesitated a moment before sitting down.

Marissa glanced at Sam, her gaze lingering on him longer than she should have let it but she couldn't help herself. She focused on his brother instead. "I'd be much more comfortable if you sat."

Dean rolled his eyes, sitting down clearly impatient and already convinced that she was a fake. Marissa sat down across the small table between them, trying to think of what to do with these two. She'd already seen they were coming but she'd assumed she would have had a little bit more time to get everything arranged for their visit. She was mistaken. Even if she was a psychic, it wasn't like it was impossible for it to happen. Most of her visions dealt with possibility of how things happened rather than a certainty. And for things that she knew _would_ happen, she didn't always know how they would get to that point but she knew the result.

"Bobby told us –"

"That I was a real psychic, but about a hundred times stronger than Sam was with constant visions of the future and that I typically know about everything that's going on?" she finished for him.

Dean blinked in surprise, quickly attempting to cover it up. "Yeah well maybe Bobby called you to let you know…"

She shook her head, "No. No, I really wish I don't have all this knowledge bouncing around in my head, this constant stream of visions and possibilities in the back of my mind. That would be so much easier."

Sam looked at her sharply, aware that fakes usually didn't talk about things quite so frankly. Marissa smiled shyly at him, glancing away before she could blush and look like a silly little school girl.

"Can you prove it?" he asked gently.

"How would you like me to? Tell you everything I've seen about you, which would take hours you don't have. Tell you about Andrea who's unconscious on a dirty hay covered floor with about twelve other survivors from the massacred village. Three will be dead by the time you get there. The vampires she took down are up and at 'em and quite hungry. Within two hours the first of their human cattle will be dead. By the end of the week they'll all be dead and Richmond won't exist."

Sam and Dean exchanged a guarded look. "Okay… You have no way to prove that though."

"Go rescue Andrea. By the time you get there, as I said, three will be dead. You can sneak in at daylight and save her."

"And what about you? While we're off risking our necks you'll end up running off and disappearing," Sam stated.

Marissa cringed at his harsh words. "No," she protested quietly. "I wouldn't do that, I'll still be right here when you get back. I have nowhere else to go–"

"You could go wherever you wanted to," Sam countered.

She frowned, looking at him with hurt. She sighed inwardly, settling in her chair sensing that she would have no way to convince him otherwise while he was like this. She hated Ruby. She hated watching them, seeing them, knowing what was going on. She had never known Sam before he was addicted to demon blood, but it felt like she had. She'd seen him as a kind and caring compassionate young man who grew up into this cold hearted addict. He adamantly refused to give her a chance.

"Dean can rescue Andrea on his own, most likely, if you insist on staying here and watching me," she murmured quietly.

"Which I do. We don't need to be hunting you down too if you decide to lead us into a trap."

"And what'll you do if-" Oh. Marissa looked down at her lap, not needing to hear his answer because she had just seen it flash in the front of her mind.. He would kill her if she betrayed them, if she led them into a trap. This whole scenario was built on a possibility and now he was holding her life over her head and darn him that he was too tall for her to retrieve it.

"Kill you."

Dean glanced at Sam, "Little harsh isn't it?"

"We can't really afford much else can we? We have to do something…"

"Its okay, Dean, I understand. I sincerely hope that everything goes right… I'd rather not die," she smiles awkwardly.

Dean looked at her, then away and suddenly back again. "I never… Said my name… How do you know who I am?"

Marissa paused, looking between both of their stunned looks. "I am a psychic… I understand you have trouble believing that but, I'm the real deal." She grimaced as a vision slammed forward suddenly, groaning in pain.

_The blonde vampire started forward, grabbing hold of Andrea by her collar and dragging her upright. She looked about semi conscious and her hands searched to find one of her knives only to find them all confiscated and herself defenseless as he slammed her back up against a wall, a torn cry ripping from her throat. _

"_Tell me little thing, ready to give up yet?" he chuckled menacingly, pressing closer to her, slowly choking the life from her._

_Andrea struggled, her legs kicking out, landing blows that did nothing to her opponent. Her eyes started to dim, getting a little glassy and faraway expression just as he dropped her and she started coughing and crawling away from him, desperate for air. A flicker of light was just visible, revealing that it was full nighttime and no one had come for Andrea…_

Marissa clutched her head, bowed over the little table, the Winchesters in the process of reaching towards her. She waved their hands off tiredly, settling on the table. It wasn't easy to handle visions all the time and she had a constant flow of them that she had managed to stave down to being just a trickle, but often they were the most powerful or unexpected that broke through and stole her energy. It was as though they fed on her energy –and she didn't have nearly enough in order to give it all away.

"Dean you should go now… Before they hurt Andrea. I think she's going to be in bad shape."

"Can we even trust her?"

"Yes, yes you can." She hated lying but there were some things that were necessary and this was one of them. The others involved her age, her past and what she saw. She rarely lied about them, but she had no other choice and she really wished she could choose something different but there was nothing for her.

"Take Bobby with you, okay Dean?"

"Yeah, I'll be safe. I'll call you when I can, I guess… Don't kill her though Sam. We might need her and Bobby can tell us if it really is her and we'll decide then, with clear heads."

Dean nodded at the both of them before turning on his heel and leaving the house. It was a few more minutes before she heard the Impala start up and could see him leaving. Sam hadn't stopped watching her since his brother had left, it was almost like he was expecting her to attack him. She didn't even have a weapon on her person and the closest thing she could use against him was a teddy bear. And she doubted that it would do much good against someone like him.

Marissa glanced over at him, his hard green eyes watching her intently. She sat turned her attention to her candles and started to pack up her things. The candles went away in the china cabinet and her crystal ball she put on the dining room table as a decoration which was about all it was good for. The teacups and tea leaves she put back away, a little happy that she hadn't needed to use them today because it meant she didn't have to wash them out.

She didn't live in a very big place, it was a small homely place. And that was only because she could afford it. She went without certain luxuries, like a television and a dishwasher. She could wash dishes by hand despite how boring it was, and as for a television her visions served as enough of a broadcast and if it was something really important her customers would mention it without fail. They usually tested her, seemed to have a lot of fun with experimenting to see what her range of knowledge was.

She turned to enter the kitchen, pausing to glance back at Sam who had made no effort to help her. "Is there anything I can you to drink…?"

"An un-poisoned beer would be great," he replied, a trace of humor on his face.

Marissa smiled shyly, "I-I think I can manage that."

Her customers didn't always pay her in cash, especially the ones who couldn't afford it and she wasn't about to turn away anyone so long as they could give her something in return. And she could always tell apart the ones who could actually pay and were trying to scam her and the ones who really couldn't. So although she didn't drink, she did have a few bottles of beer lingering inside her fridge.

She grabbed the first can her hand encountered and headed back to Sam, holding it out to him. He took it from her, eyeing it speculatively. He opened it and damn him that he seemed surprised the seal was still intact. Marissa cringed at the expression on his face and turned away, the strength of his suspicions was crippling to her. She wasn't like that! She wanted to scream it at him and demand that he trust her but she couldn't and she knew it wouldn't work.

She walked into the kitchen again, sorting through her visions to find one of Andrea at the moment. She was able to see the present as well, especially when it involved someone she knew. Or someone that the angels had decided she had to watch, like Sam and Dean. She knew everything about their lives. She'd watched them grow up as she grew up. She knew way more than she wanted to about the Winchesters, but she had no say in it.

She opened the cupboard and grabbed a box of macaroni out, setting it on the counter she grabbed a pot and set to filling it up, ready to make dinner. Knowing that tonight would be a long night full of restricting visions, watching what was going on with Andrea.

_Andrea shifted slowly, huddling closer to herself, hoping they didn't notice her right away. She glanced around her, trying to find something that she could use to her advantage but so far there had been nothing aside from the other captives and she wasn't about to use them either. She sighed, rubbing at her face wondering where her supposed back-up had gone. Because if they didn't get here soon she was going to be vampire meat. They'd already been debating between eating her or turning her. So far those who were voting to eat her were unfortunately winning. They had more than enough vampires but not enough humans for all of them._

_She looked down at her hands, which were bound together like her feet. Her knives were confiscated and out of reach. She glanced over at her fellow captives who were all huddled together, far away from her. They knew she was trouble at least and she wasn't about to make any effort to change that._

_She spotted the gleam of silver from the shirt pocket of one of the men and she recognized it as a penknife. She grinned to herself and edged closer, ignoring the fact that their hushed talk fell away at her approach. _

Marissa gasped loudly, clinging to the sink, vaguely aware that Sam had added the pasta to the water and was watching her before she let the next vision slam into place. Usually she had a barrier up to limit things but she needed to see right now, see if Sam really would end up killing her…

_Dean tapped his fingers against the steering wheel in time with the loud music blaring as he entered Richmond at dawn. He sang along happily to "Eye of the Tiger" in remarkable good tune, more than expected. In the rearview mirror an old beat up truck followed, Bobby driving right along with Dean._

Marissa groaned weakly, slamming her barrier back into place. Everything was going to be alright. They would save Andrea and come back here in one piece –she wasn't going to die. That was all that mattered, as far as she was concerned. She let out a sigh of relief, surprise registering as Sam pushed a bowl of macaroni towards her.

She glanced at him, taking the bowl, "Not poisoned is it?" she teased.

He rolled his eyes, "No."

Her smile faded away, aware that her appetite had left when her energy did. She attempted though, probably an attempt very similar to the one he'd made when he drank some of the beer. It was a relief to see that he was eating too though, and it was immensely more comfortable than eating alone would have been. And not because she was thinking he was trying to poison her, but because it was something different and something she'd been seeing for a long, long time. She smiled softly to herself, looking forward to her future.

* * *

_I've had this ready for days to update but the site pops up an error message everytime. And I'm not getting alerts or PM messages on time. They're days apart if they come at all, which lately they haven't been._

_Also, I was struggling to keep writing this from Andrea's Point of View so I've switched to Marissa's. This story will still revolve around Andrea and will feature her viewpoint in first person, not just through what Marissa sees but I may change that yet again, depending on if it gets too confusing._

_I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to update, and that it keeps taking me longer to get this updated. I hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think of Marissa and the sudden changes. I'm really sorry about that, but it's about the only way I can really continue this story, I feel. And at least Andrea's tale can unfold too, but in some ways it'll be easier._

_Should I only have Marissa and Andrea's point of views, or would you like me to continue with the Winchester's brief outlooks about every second chapter? Or just Marissa's point of view, with these flashes of Andrea and then the Winchester point of view? Or only Marissa's view and no one else's? _

_Please please please review. It makes my day and it helps me to keep writing, otherwise I feel really... I don't feel so much like writing. And it just takes one person to show some love for the story and I will continue with it as soon as I can, sooner still if they review. (Because I was about to quit writing this but two wonderful people have got me continuing it) _

_So please, at least two reviews and I'll keep on writing. _

_:) Have an awesome day!_


	6. Imprisonment

Imprisonment

She didn't try to get any sleep, knowing that with Sam's constant watching of her it would be impossible. Marissa sat on the couch, playing tick-tack-toe with Sam. It kept her from focusing too much on his distrust and it was a way to pass the time at the very least. Marissa was surprised to find herself winning the game against him, and several times in a row too. She smiled slightly as she intentionally placed her circle so that she would lose and he trapped her there as she expected. She enjoyed playing around with him, and there were a few times when he tied her without her setting it up for him to do so. She didn't like to win completely and if she won most of the time and tied the rest it really wouldn't have been all that fair.

Besides, she did have the advantage of sensing what move he was going to make before he made it. She could then very easily avoid him for whatever move he was going to make, but that just made for a very boring game in her opinion. And anyways her psychic abilities were more like cheating in something like this, but he didn't seem to even consider it a possibility.

Marissa knew most people thought that psychics needed something solid to work with, something they could use and work around but in her opinion that was closer to witchcraft. And most of the time what she couldn't see, she could often sense. It was something that would have made most people very uncomfortable. Andrea knew though and she could put up just enough of a barrier that her emotions and intentions came out muffled. Dean seemed to do the same thing but he wasn't really aware of it whereas Sam was open and practically all of his intentions were screaming at her. It had to do with the demon blood, because although it increased his strength it did nothing for his defense. And as far as Marissa knew, it wouldn't result in his death or any fatalities, but it could.

Most supernatural creatures didn't have any psychic power, and since Azazel's children had all been killed off, except for Sam, there wasn't supposed to be anyone else who could do any damage to him. Marissa could have, if she wanted to. If she used the dark side of her power. But she wouldn't do that, had never done it, and made sure she kept them under control.

She hated her powers more than anything. They were no gift to her, to others yes but she would have preferred to not have them at all. Her peace was that she could help others with her foresight though and that made it a little bit easier to deal with.

Marissa yawned softly, running a hand through her hair as she waited. Sam made a move and she countered it without much thought, more of an instant reaction.

VI

I tensed, waiting anxiously for the next blow to come. They'd just lost one of their fledglings because of the dead man's blood I'd stabbed him full of. Apparently in the younger ones it could cause unexpected side effects including death. I filed the information away, knowing it would probably be of some importance to me later on. I was curled up on the floor seeing as they were most definitely not happy with me. Secretly, I was kinda proud but I was also expecting that it wouldn't be long before they beat that out of me.

I also currently hated the Winchesters. Some back-up they were. They never even showed up! Some rational part in my mind tried to defend them, saying that they were picking their battles and trying to come up with a strategy to save me and the other cattle that were here. But I didn't want them to do that. I just didn't want to die and was hoping that they would come and save me.

I guess, deep down, I cared for myself first and foremost.

I never tried to pretend that I was a nice person. Not really, and hey, there was a reason why I'd been assigned to be an assassin. I wasn't about to pretend otherwise, I didn't have to.

I cried out as their blows rained down on me, shrinking underneath the pain, praying they chose to kill me quickly. I'd watched the last unfortunate bastard bleed dry for several hours and before him they'd killed the girl simply by snapping her neck. I was desperately afraid that I would be the next one to die especially considering that I had done nothing half as deserving than what the last fellow had done. Sure I'd killed a vampire but that was because of side effects. The last guy had managed to kill one of their kind with a pocket knife. Talented of him, but in the end it didn't make much of a difference.

Suddenly Desmond pulled me to my feet and shoved me back into the cage cruelly. My back already tender from the variety of the bruises marring it crashed against the other side of the cage, the steel bars pressing in painfully against me. I crumpled to the floor, already reaching for my back, desperate to alleviate the pain. Not that it did much of course.

The blonde vampire then yanked out another girl, his eyes locked on mine as he smirked wickedly, pulling the young girl against him as she whimpered. He kicked the cage door shut, his hand sliding up to rest around her throat. My eyes widened and I gripped the steel bar behind me, feeling myself get sick. He teased her a little bit first, made her think her fate would be a little different at first, caressing her with soft kisses before he ripped her throat out and threw her to the vamps behind him.

He walked up to the cage, where I was. I didn't back away. It was a difference between me and the other slaves and we all knew it. Fresh blood dribbled down his chin, stained his teeth and he made a show of licking his lips though it did no good.

"They taste better, sweeter, that way," he purred.

"What way?" I sneered. "Hopeful?"

"You bet," he grinned wolfishly, his bloody double set of teeth speaking volumes of the viciousness I believed him to be capable of. As I was sure was his intention. He was always the one to kill the cattle and then let the others have their meal.

I rolled my eyes, pretending to be disinterested. I didn't need his boring chatter. I was sick of dealing with vampires.

"Wanna know why I'm telling you?"

I glanced back at him, "Fine, do share since you seem so bent on doing so," I retorted airily.

"Because I'm not gonna kill you 'till your pretty little friends show up. And I will watch those lovely blue eyes light up with hope, as you think you're safe and you rush to meet them. But I'll be right there, behind you, and I will rip out your throat just like her, but I won't let you get away that easily. Next I'll take your heart and keep it."

I pictured him trying to attack me with the Winchesters right there and it promised to be an amusing sight when they killed him. "Aww you love me? I didn't know you cared that -!"

His hand shot through the bars, grabbing my throat and cutting off my air supply. "It's so that I can show it to every hunter I meet and add to my collection," he hissed. "Pretty little dolly!" he shoved me back against the bars before turning on his heel and walking off.

He didn't go far. He never did, especially when he was waiting for his vampire mistress to come back. I sat down heavily, refusing to admit just how scared I was as I rubbed my throat gently. The image of the last innocent he'd killed seared in my mind. I hoped the Winchesters got here soon. I wasn't sure if he would actually wait that long. Especially if his mistress came back, considering she had ultimate control over such matters and I wasn't left with much of a choice between both of them. I was pretty sure I'd be dead once she came back. If. If she came back. I was hoping that one of the Winchesters had got her.

Considering that hope was all I had to go with right now…

VI

Dean drove away, a small fire in the rearview mirror. He got lucky, encountering a vampire so easily. At least now he knew how the old cabin was arranged. He'd had the GPS coordinates but that wouldn't have told him anything particularly helpful about the building. Not without a lot of research and according to the psychic they didn't have enough time for that so he was going to try and get there as soon as he could. He didn't want Andrea to die from this, not for this, for them, but he knew it would certainly simplify things.

He knew that from what Bobby had said that Marissa seemed safe and trustworthy considering both him and Dad had trusted her but still… There was something about her that made it so hard to believe her. And it didn't help that she seemed to be acting so relaxed around them, almost like someone who'd known them for a long time might. She seemed a little cautious around Sam, but still… Despite all his hostility she didn't really seem that afraid, as if she knew he wouldn't kill her.

Dean had trouble believing that Sammy wouldn't. He'd been so weird lately, first with the whole distrust Andrea thing and then feeling guilty about it and now his supposed resentment for Marissa. He exhaled tightly as he drove towards the cabin and was grateful to see the sun was just peeking over the horizon.

* * *

_I know this chapter must be a little confusing, and I sincerely hope that the POV changes weren't too bad. Please let me know if they were distracting and in which case which view I should drop._

_I won't be using Marissa's point of view all the time, same with Andrea's. Probably not after this chapter anyways, so it might be Marissa's view and the boys, or Andrea's and the boys but that should be it. Hopefully... _

_Please let me know what you think of Marissa! I'm drying to know. :)_

_And reviews are always welcome, adored and very much loved. _


	7. Prisoner All Alone

Prisoner

I watched as the vampires' slept inches apart from each other, never once moving in their sleep as they lay curled up on the floor. Desmond was too far from my cage to reach or to hear me stirring though I wasn't sure how much consciousness he retained when asleep. I rubbed my throat absently, watching them nervously.

It was a very subtle increase in light that alerted me to his presence. Dean edged into the cabin carefully, glancing around furtively before tiptoeing over to the cage. The captives with me looked up at him, hope blooming in their eyes. The image of the last girl slammed into my mind and I winced, praying Desmond didn't wake up. He would've had a feast of us. Dean quietly unlocked the cage with a set of keys that I didn't recognize. Silently the other captives ran off and I got to my feet and edged out, avoiding looking at him.

He followed me and mutely pulled a knife out, offering it to me. I couldn't help but ignore it. If I took it, I was a little afraid that I might kill him with it. Granted that was what I was supposed to do, but not just yet. He offered it to me again appearing rather confused by my attempt at ignoring him and I yanked the blade out of his hand, casting an annoyed glance at him. It was a balanced knife, just fine for throwing, but it just wasn't mine. However, it was coated in dead man's blood.

I looked around at the vampires and glanced back at Dean, wondering what kind of a plan he'd come here with. These vampires had my scent and all those of the remaining captives and I knew that Desmond would especially entertain the thought of tracking me down to kill, same with the other captives. I spotted his sleeping form and glared, I couldn't help it. Dean grabbed my arm and hurriedly hauled me outside.

A grizzled looking older man was leaning against a beat-up truck, a machete in his hands and another beside him. Dean led me over to him and he handed the spare machete to me I took it, slipping the knife away and adjusting my grasp on the heavier blade.

"This is Bobby… He's like my uncle," Dean murmured.

"I'm Andrea," I replied quietly, smiling slightly at the older hunter.

"Let's go get this done, eh?"

I nodded in hesitant agreement. I so did not want to go back in there but I guess I had to be a good little loyalist and follow them. I didn't want to die.

VII

Marissa started awake abruptly, not even aware of having fallen asleep. She was instantly aware of him watching her, only three feet across from her and looking less hostile than he'd been all day. She wrapped her arms around her stomach, a foul taste bubbling up in her mouth as she fought to keep herself calm. Flashes of vampires being beheaded and stabbed and burned kept popping into her mind, bright splashes of gore staining all of the hunters' clothing.

She'd at least got the humans get out free and safe, but the blonde was closing in on Andrea again and she was oblivious to it, her back to him. Marissa knew she was spacing out, looking like she was in a trance which she basically was as the vision dragged her consciousness back to them, almost like they were trying to drown her in a sea of gore that was Andrea's battle for life.

Her focus couldn't be altered even slightly as she watched Andrea fight against the blonde vampire. Dean and Bobby were both busy with their own fights…

_Andrea suddenly managed to get her hand around the dagger she'd been carrying since Dean had given it to her. She yanked it out and slammed it into__Desmond's leg, hoping that it would do something to give her an advantage. It did just enough that he snarled in pain, recoiling a little from her. She wrenched her hands and her machete away from his and took several steps back, measuring her opponent as he recovered himself. His eyes seemed to grow darker, never leaving hers as he stepped closer._

_Dean whirled around in time to see the vampire tackle Andrea to the ground and__a soft whimper escaped her lips. The heavy vampire wasn't dead yet, but with a machete tipped in dead man's blood sticking through his chest, the effects of the vampire poison were starting to take immediate effect. His movements were getting sluggish and his teeth were inches from her neck, moving as though to gnaw at her flesh but he couldn't move any closer to her, completely paralyzed as he was._

_She shoved him as hard as she could and crawled away from him, shuddering in disgust. Dean walked over and yanked her machete out, bringing the blade down in one fluid movement bringing a swift death to the centuries old vamp. He tossed the blade down, his face an impassive mask._

Marissa bit her lower lip, pushing back her visions and distancing herself from them. She got a little queasy when friends were about to die, and gore was disgusting. She could deal with it, but usually after it was dealt with was when her reaction kicked up. She took a deep breath, pushing the visions away and calming down from them. Her queasiness was kinda stupid… and she hated it, so she really hoped Sam had no idea what was going on. He was looking at her a little curiously and she fought her sheepish blush back, releasing her hold on her stomach.

"They're okay," she added quietly, trying to remove the awkwardness in the air, a shy blush staining her cheeks as she looked down at her lap. She had to appear so completely crazy to him...

"All of them?"

"Yeah, they took out all the vampires."

"And they're fine?"

"They're on their way," she smiled softly at him, hoping to see some of his distrust leave his eyes even though she knew it wouldn't. Her smile faded slowly, and she exhaled exhaustedly, leaning back against the couch.

Silence descended between them, creating an effective barrier, his distrust of her building up a wall she was hoping to break down. She wasn't like he thought she was and it was really hard to make him see around that. She sighed again, rubbing at her eyes, wishing she could go back to sleep. Andrea and dean would be here in the actually sun-up-morning, not this still-night-morning.

Marissa had done a fair few all-nighters due to traumatic visions. And those were limited in themselves and practically revolved around Sam and Dean. The first was when Sam lost Jessica. Then it was John's death, and Sam's and then Dean selling his soul and going through Hell. She thought those were the worst four months in her life and she never, ever wanted to suffer them again. They were shadows, glimmers of what the boys had faced only a year ago, but she only slept when her body collapsed on her from lack of sleep. It was no way to live, but at least she had something.

Sam's phone rang and he got up, answering it as he went into the kitchen for some supposed privacy as though she didn't know who it was. It was amusing in its own way, but depressing as well. Ruby had finally called him back after having made him suffer a withdrawal.

Marissa frowned sadly, wishing she could do something about it but there wasn't anything for her to do. Well there were a lot of things she _could_ do but the angels had forbid her from interfering with certain things. It was the worst of everything, knowing what would happen and not being allowed to help. They hadn't specifically forbid anything, just a generalization to never let the Winchesters know their futures in regards to the Apocalypse at the price of her life. Apparently they thought it was a fair price.

Marissa disagreed with it, but as far as she had seen, nothing too bad seemed to be about to jump out at them. Their lives were hard enough in her opinion and she didn't want them battering her for answers she couldn't give without dying.

Sam returned to the living room, looking a little more optimistic. He glanced at his watch and walked over to the window, parting the curtains a little to look outside. Dean and Andrea were still hours away but there was now someone standing on her lawn. Marissa tensed helplessly as she future-watched the demon walk up to the door and knock. Sam opened the door and let her in without as much as a glance back at Marissa.

She felt like a prisoner in her own home and immediately dropped her eyes away from them. She knew what they were and what they did. And it was something she hated to watch, to see, to think about and most certainly to know. Dean didn't even know, he suspected something was going on but he didn't know what.

"Whoa, hanging out with a psychic now Sam?"

"Yeah…"

"Where's Dean-o?" she looked around uninterestedly.

Marissa stared at her feet in irritation. It wasn't Ruby's house. It wasn't Sam's house. It was her house. A house she had managed to procure all by herself. _Her _hard work. _Her_ money. And at the end of the day, it was Marissa Faith who paid the bills.

"Rescuing his new girl."

"Got one already?"

"She's just a hunting buddy," he said dismissively.

"Been keeping an eye out for that buzz I mentioned?"

"Yeah… but this one doesn't seem like she could do. She carries a few too many daggers though."

"If she's an assassin shouldn't it appear as though she's innocent? As though she couldn't do that when she's been planning it since step one?"

Sam shrugged and led her into the kitchen. Again, as though he thought he could get some privacy there. First off, it was a small house, she knew he was there and secondly, she could see him there. Her visions ranged from what was going on in the present, which could be set aside easily enough, which she was choosing to use at the moment, all the way to weeks in the future. Those ones were often weaker and highly unpredictable because there were so many variables in choices and decisions from the present until then.

"It would but it would be a faked innocence. We would see through it."

Ah, an irony there in his confidence and the fact that they really weren't seeing through it. Andrea was going to kill Dean.

"Letting yourself get arrogant Sam?" she frowned up at him. "More suited to Dean, don't you think?"

"Well it's true. You can see through fakes…" he paused suddenly, glancing out into the living room, towards her. She lay down on the couch, feigning sleep. "Ruby look… It's been too long already… I need more," he fixed a desperate look at her.

"I know you do," she smiled sweetly and pulled out a full flask, which she offered to him. "I figured you might be busy, this is the best I can offer right now."

He smiled slightly in relief and untwisted the cap… Marissa opened her eyes and pushed the present visions from her mind. She didn't need to see him doing that, didn't want him to be doing it here. As much as he felt it was necessary and believed that it would lead him to destroying Lilith… But there was so much more at stake.

Marissa took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She believed that eventually things would get better for the Winchesters. They were just in for a long ride as fate's bitch, but they would break away and have some freedom and peace eventually. If anyone deserved it, they were most definitely the ones who needed a reward of some kind. A break from all this death, madness and destruction would be the best way to start it. As things stood, no matter how far she looked and which possible paths the future took, they all showed her dark, gloomy things. A world still needing the boys, and the boys drifting apart.

* * *

_Two reviews, please please please? _

_I hope you enjoyed, and be sure to tell me what you thought of it, and what you think will happen next. I really want to know :)_

_Have a good day!_


	8. Trust

Trust

Marissa sat bolt upright as the door opened and Dean and Andrea entered. She cringed as her back protested the sudden movement, unhappy about having been forced to sleep on the hard couch. She blinked hard, rubbing at her eyes as she adjusted to the light.

"Hey Mari," Andrea said amiably. She smiled at her friend, enjoying the trust she seemed to be blessed with. After yesterday it seemed like it was just a dream. Dean looked at her and she sensed an apology in his manner.

"I'm, uh, sorry."

"It's okay," she smiled sweetly.

"Bobby told me…"

Marissa tensed, fairly confident that Bobby wouldn't have told him anything about her past, but when she was asleep, she'd been watching the future not the present so he could have said something to Dean during that time.

"W-what did he say?"

"Nothing specific," he smiled disarmingly. "Just that you'd had a rough enough time and you kept all of our secrets and maybe threatened to knock some sense into me for not trusting you."

"More like vow not threaten," Andrea gleefully corrected.

Marissa smiled warmly, "Your willingness to trust me means a lot to me Dean. Thank you."

He blinked in shock. He didn't know what it was like to always be distrusted and loathed and speculated on at every turn, every new face. It was exhausting and when people finally made the decision to trust her, she wanted nothing more than to prove them right and earn that trust. And earning Dean Winchester's trust wasn't that easy, but Sam's was supposed to be easier. She frowned softly, looking towards the stairs.

"Where's Sam?"

"He's uh… Sleeping," she looked back at Dean apologetically, wishing she could tell him something different.

"Sleeping?" the incredulity in his voice made her cringe. "If you had done something he wouldn't have been able to stop you! What-?"

Marissa flinched back automatically at the harsh anger in his voice, biting her lower lip, cursing her sensitivity. She took a soft, steadying breath as Andrea placed a hand on Dean's arm. He glanced towards her, noticing her reaction and exhaled tersely. He turned away and then paused.

"Where is he?" he asked tightly.

"First door on the left," Marissa replied quietly, looking down at the floor.

It was a minute before he replied, and Marissa could sense from his anger that he wanted to race upstairs and start yelling at Sam, but he was holding himself back from it.

"Thank you."

And then he was climbing the stairs, heading destroy his little brother's beauty rest. Marissa knew that he was upset because Sam's decisions no longer made sense, because he was back and forth and loop-de-loops all around and Dean just wanted to trust his brother's rationality which was quickly failing by all appearances.

"Are you okay?" Andie asked softly, looking over at her.

"I'm fine," she mumbled, looking up at her reluctantly.

"Are you… going to tell them about me?"

"I can't, unless I get the sudden urge to die. I'll give you a heads up if I get that feeling," she grinned cheekily.

Andie chuckled, shaking her head. "Your humor is so dark."

"But you still laughed."

"I did. I know you too well, I like to indulge your humor." Marissa giggled, smiling softly at her friend. "You know… You can't hide your age forever."

Her smile dropped away, and she bit her lip briefly. "When we first met, I chased you out of my house and threatened to kill you, Andie. Remember that fear now."

"Marissa, I know but… You can't help it."

"Well they _can't_ know and if you so much as breathe a word of it I'll-I'll-"

"I know… I know. I won't betray you."

"Tha-"

There was a loud echoing thump from upstairs as Dean rolled Sam off the bed. Not a pleasant way to wake up at all and it seemed Sam most certainly did not appreciate it.

VIII

"What were you thinking?" Dean hissed, dragging Sam outside for some privacy. Well, at least the pretense of some, if the psychic could see everything it made no difference.

"I-I wasn't," he muttered, brushing his hair back sleepily.

"You know better Sam! What if you had missed something and your suspicions turned out right? Huh? What then?"

"God, Dean I know. I screwed up: quit shoving it down my throat!"

"Obviously you don't! Because you could have just cost us our lives! If that psychic had done anything…"

"Nothing happened!"

"Pathetic excuse," Dean growled.

"Jerk."

"Bitch." Dean turned his back on him, still pissed off but aware that Sam knew he'd screwed up big time. He walked back inside where Marissa and Andrea were chatting amiably.

The blonde psychic looked a lot younger compared to the possible assassin. Then again that might have been due to Andrea's black bruises along her throat and her height. She had a couple of inches on Marissa and a better body build, not quite as slender and twig-like. In his opinion, Marissa didn't look nearly healthy enough and her features were too youngish for his liking.

Andrea had a fuller body, more suited to her modest five foot six height. She was also shapelier, a fact that was especially obvious next to the girl beside her. Her clothes didn't conceal any of her features, but rather lent some subtle emphasis in all the right places. It'd been a while since Dean had any time to think about women, and less than enough time to spend with some of them. Just because he didn't trust Andrea didn't mean they couldn't spend some quality time together. They were both consenting adults, and if she were without clothes, she wouldn't be able to put a knife in his back by surprise.

Dean wasn't going to wait for Sam either; he knew he needed some time to gather his thoughts. If he even had any left. It was getting harder and harder to follow what that kid was doing. His little brother was acting weirder and weirder, no matter what he did. And he couldn't figure out why. Sure his death had shaken Sammy up, but he was back and they were… recuperating. Slowly but surely they would heal. Sam's behavior was definitely concerning though and he didn't know what to make of it. He'd have to get over it eventually and if he didn't want to talk about it, then that was fine. Dean didn't want to have to ask, but he would if this went on for too much longer. He loathed the thought of it.

Andrea turned to look back at him; smiling slightly and Marissa stood up and hurried outside. Maybe to comfort Sam, he could probably use it. And the girl was his type; she'd get his history and seemed to have a well of never ending empathy and patience. And it was about time for Sammy to start looking at girls again anyways. He spent far too much time with _that_ demon and she hardly counted as female company.

"Sam alright?"

"He'll be fine."

"Hope you didn't chew him out too badly."

"His girlfriend will let him get over it."

Andrea snorted, "They're hardly even acquaintances."

"Sam'll smarten up and open his eyes."

Andrea laughed softly, shaking her head. "Of course they will. She's half his size and-"

"Age?" Dean supplied, glancing at her to see if his suspicion was correct. She did look too young to be eighteen.

Andrea sighed unhappily, "And now she knows you know. Grrrreeeeat."

"She didn't want us to know because…?"

"Legally she can't live on her own unless she got emancipated, which won't happen, or if she had a guardian with her. Which she doesn't have. I don't know why; she likes to keep her secrets and it makes me wonder."

"It would make anyone wonder."

"Despite everything… I don't think she could ever do something wrong. Something so terribly wrong that she can't tell anyone about it…"

"How long has she been on her own?"

"Two years, I think."

"How can you know what she says is the truth? It's so hard to believe."

"Marissa only lies about things that she's forced to. If she can tell the truth, she will."

"What about her visions?"

"They're one hundred percent true. How can you _not_ believe her yet?"

"I don't know… I don't know her. I don't even know you."

"What Bobby told you is true. She's practically a prophetess in her own right."

"She hasn't told me anything like what you two have described."

"Of course not. She doesn't know you either, and in case you haven't noticed, she's young and shy and fragile."

Dean exhaled, it was a good point. He would have to trust her first in order for her to trust him. He was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt, but he wasn't sure what Sam's constant disbelief would do her. As when he had feared for evil to take over his brother, his lack of confidence had provided to be taxing. Maybe it would help her trust him faster but as things tended to work out, he suspected that it would be the opposite of that effect.

He needed a plan. Something, anything to work with.

"If you think you can kill us, either of us Andrea, you'll find the most dedicated hunter at your heels in seconds and you'll never lose him. We'll kill you."

Andrea froze, blinking in shock. "I-I wouldn't kill you… Geez, w-where the hell did that come from Dean?" she paused, glaring at him. "Do I look like a killer?"

"You carry thirteen knives on you!" It was a valid point. He needed to establish trust with her first, test the waters, and see what she would do.

"For self protection!" she snarled defensively.

"From what?"

"F-from anything," she floundered, trying to find a defense to satisfy him.

"And you need thirteen knives?"

"How many weapons do you carry in total? I'm without a storage place so I carry extras."

He frowned, not believing her defense but willing to let it slide. He sighed softly, rubbing at his face.

* * *

_Next chapter, Andrea's reasoning is going to become clear. I've held off revealing it in order for you to maybe understand her, a little, and like her. Then again that might be hard without knowing her reasoning. Next chapter you'll know why and there might be a glimpse into Marissa's past too. _

_I'm not sure if I'll be able to update soon or not, I'll try to get this next chapter done within the next week. Next month is going to be very hectic, and I won't have hardly any free time. I'll try to get this next chapter out soon, but there might be quite a wait before the next follows._

_Thanks to Mar98 for betaing! _

_And please review! Have a great day! _


	9. Secrets

Secrets

Marissa approached Sam shyly as he leaned back against the Impala, running a hand over his face. "Hey," she said quietly.

He turned towards her quickly; "Hi…" he shifted, standing up warily.

She fidgeted, rubbing her hands together anxiously. She really didn't want to laugh at him, but he was just so ridiculous it was hard not to. Because it wasn't like she had any combat skills whatsoever. She knew how to punch but that was the extent of the harm she could cause someone, other than messing with their minds. And there was no defense against that, at least not really and here he was shifting defensively as though she might attack him. She couldn't cause any physical harm to him even if she wanted to.

"I'm not going to do anything."

"You wouldn't be able to anyways," he retorted

Marissa frowned softly, trying to get a sense from his ever changing emotions. "No, of course not. I'm like half your size and really weak. It'd be like beating a little girl."

Sam's eyes widened slightly and he glanced at her and took a longer look. Marissa shifted slightly, praying that she really could pass for being eighteen and not the sixteen year old she was. She didn't want to lose him because of that, a few years difference. Legally it meant the world but she'd been skirting the law for the last year anyways, so what difference did it really make?

She had seen glimpses of her own future, a future where she was married happily with children spared from her gifts of foresight and it was a happy life. Sam understood her. And that life was an amazing, blessed one and she wanted it. She knew from everything she'd seen of him before, in the present (when he wasn't addicted) that he was a good person and she wanted to know him better. To know him as someone in her life, not just a vision of who he was, who he had been and what he could do.

She'd seen futures where she was alone, where she died, where she was caught and dragged back into the life she'd escaped from. She didn't want to go back; she couldn't –_wouldn't_- go back to Richard. She wanted to be safe.

"It kind of would," he agreed quietly, smiling gently.

Marissa smiled back brightly, helplessly ecstatic that he'd actually smiled at her. It seemed like such a big step but really it wasn't even one.

"So… how do… your visions work… exactly?" he asked hesitantly, looking away from her.

"People, who are important in supernatural matters it seems, get most of my focus and attention. People I'm closely acquainted to and tuned to are always in the back of my mind with what's going on in their life at the moment. There's a distance of sorts, but I don't know exactly what it is, and when the people I know are outside of it, then I can't actually see what's going on but with the lessened influx of present events, I can see the future ones. And when I'm sleeping, for whatever reason, I don't see the present at all and only future events." She smiled nervously, hoping it made sense.

"How can you think with all that going on?" he sounded a little awed.

"I'm just accustomed to it. I can block out most of the present ones, but the people I care about I try and follow what's going on in their life. It was hard at first, apparently… Mom and Dad always used to say that I woke up screaming and I would try to tell them what it was but I just couldn't and I didn't understand it for a long time."

"What let you make sense of it?"

Marissa looked at her feet, unsure of what she should answer him with. The fact that when she was four she met her angel for the first time? That that was when it all came together and she could understand what was going on? He took away all the bad things; let her see further and clearer and to a point in time when she understood it all. Even if she was only four she realized what she was seeing and had understood it.

Her angel had showed her a time when her power was explained. And basically it was that the future was a current in a different plane of view, sort of like a dimension, but there were so many planes that each small alteration made to the present, could change the future entirely. Thus certain angels were sent to earth in order to guide the future along plans that God had made for it. At least that was what she assumed.

She feared that if she told Sam that it was an angel, he wouldn't trust her. He was already wary enough of the angels because of Ruby… She really didn't want to lost the little bit that she was gaining with him.

"I saw the future, a time when the mysteries now were understood," she lied reluctantly.

"Do you… know what happens to us?"

Marissa made the mistake of looking over at him, and his green eyes were trained on her, full of desperate longing and a broken bitterness somewhere behind all that. She opened and closed her mouth several times, wishing she could tell him, but words failed her

and she left her mouth closed, the words she wanted to tell him locked away as she shook her head.

There was the silken rustle of wings and suddenly Castiel was standing beside them, surprisingly not invasive in his closeness to either of them. Marissa's shoulders dropped and she shifted sullenly, fearing that he was here to lecture her again now that the Winchesters were actually involved. His bright blue eyes surveyed between her and Sam speculatively and she felt a steel weight drop in her gut, knowing that she had almost broken her word and that she still would if she could, just to provide a little comfort to Sam.

"Hello Sam."

"C-Castiel… Dean's inside…" he seemed genuinely confused, glancing at, suddenly expecting her to freak out. He probably realized that if she knew so much about them, that she knew about Castiel too. It was so much more than that, if only he knew.

"I am aware."

Sam paused slightly, shifting, he looked around clearly uncomfortable. "I'll go get him…?"

"Yes."

Sam headed back inside quickly, not looking back once. Marissa sighed softly, knowing that Sam really held no concern about her whatsoever and sucking the pain back bitterly. She felt a little foolish for it, and knew it was just something that was left behind from all the damage that Richard had done, but she earnestly wished that someone, just once, that someone would care about her a little too. Her brother had been too much of a self-absorbed ass to care about anyone else. He just used and manipulated her, and when that didn't work, he forced her to do whatever he needed her visions for. It wasn't her he'd cared about and she'd known that for a long time.

"You almost told him."

"I couldn't."

"I wouldn't let you."

"I know…"

"They can't know. You saw what would happen if you told them."

"The future would be irreparably damaged," she recited miserably, staring at the Impala's sleek black shape.

"And?" he pressed.

"And it would be my fault. I would single handedly bring about the destruction of the world and in the process the future would crumble into bits of nothingness… The world as we know it would collapse and nothing could ever bring it back."

"Keep that in mind Marissa Faith, whenever you want to tell them. They cannot know."

"I know," she whispered miserably.

Awkward silence flittered between them, and she kept her eyes on the driveway, aware that there wasn't much she could do about any of this. Aware that she had to listen to the angels. She was a psychic with the power to destroy the world any time she wanted. The angels wouldn't let her. She would only get so many warnings before they actually decided to smite her and remove the problem. They were lenient only because she was so young, but soon it would disappear. She was with the Winchesters now, and she had to hold onto that and remember that she couldn't tell them what they most desperately wanted her to.

Dean left the house, jogging down the gravel path towards them. She looked over at him, his heavy steps crunching on the gravel the only warning she had for his presence.

"What's going on?" he glanced between her and the angel.

"More graves have been desecrated in a bloody ritual," Castiel stated. "You are wasting your time here."

"What? We can't stop for five minutes? Cas we aren't like you, we need to rest."

"The dead should not be coming back to life, Dean."

"Alright, we'll head to Minnesota. Bobby's already…" Dean trailed off, frowning unhappily as Castiel disappeared with the soft sound of rustling silk. "Researching this thing…" he sighed.

"Can I help?" she asked eagerly.

"Nah, you stay here, live a happy life alright?"

She frowned and blocked his way into the house. "Please. I can't keep doing this…"

"You make it sound like that life is so bad…" he looked at her curiously.

"There's nothing here for me, not like this. If I stay here I'll be found… I knew I would have to leave soon, I could just leave with you couldn't I?"

He frowns, "I'm not a taxi service Marissa." He paused, "And you're a runaway aren't you?"

"I might as well be. Anyways, Bobby would let Andrea borrow one of his wrecks and we could follow behind you guys. Whatever works, please Dean?"

"Why?" he retorted stubbornly.

Marissa paused, considering what she would tell him. "I… I need this. I need to do something. All of my visions practically revolve around you and your brother. Why can't I help you?"

"You haven't told us anything helpful now, have you? You'd have to open up a lot more than you have. And I get it, you'd be good for Sam, but something's going on with him and we're caught up in a great big mess… I'm not about to let a little girl into this path of destruction."

Marissa blushed brightly and looked down; she stepped back out of his way. "I just want to help," she whispered.

"Well there's not much you can help with, now is there?" he replied, not unkindly.

VIII

"Well, well, well look who it is…"

Andrea whirled around, her eyes widening in surprise as she noticed Ruby was standing there. "Hey Ruby," she said cautiously.

"I see you got yourself here with the boys."

"Yeah… After a lot of pain."

"I see. You poor thing, you still bruise?"

Andrea flinched, "I can't help it!"

"You could, if you worked a little faster."

"Oh really?" she sneered. "How long did it take you? You've been at it a year now! Bosses are starting to get a little impatient aren't they Ruby? Heard Alistair was sharpening his knives for you. They think you're a liability."

"As they should," she hissed back, glancing around for any sign of the Winchesters, she grabbed Andrea by her shirt collar and dragged her into Marissa's room. "I need the Winchester's implicit trust and I've got it."

"You'll have a horde on your tail soon. And they'll remove you."

"Then I'll get more trust won't I? I'm not giving _our_ game away Andie. You should know better."

Andrea cringed slightly and nodded. "It would be easier if you'd asked me to help you out sooner."

"I can't help it that Celeste didn't tell me you'd had trouble picking up missions worth your time. I know you're good Andie, you just need to prove it." Ruby paused, smirking, "Or don't you want to be a demon anymore?"

"Of course I do! I'm doing all of this for you aren't I?"

"Aww, sweetie, are you getting a heart? A little pitter patter for Dean-o perhaps?"

"If I do it won't stop me from killing him!" she drew a dagger in a quick flourish and had it over Ruby's heart. The damn bitch didn't even flinch.

She pushed Andie's hand aside in boredom, and she sheathed her dagger again. "I know what you can do, but you haven't done this before. You want to be just like your mommy and daddy Andie? Then play your part and kill Dean. The angels are moving their pieces; they want him as a vessel."

"You can't kill Sam."

"It wouldn't matter if I did. Our boss could bring him back again, and Sammy would owe some allegiance to us, but no, I don't intend to. What I do need is for Dean to be removed. He's the only one who can bring Sam back from where I'm taking him."

"You want me to drive them apart?"

"Of course I do."

Andrea nodded in relief, grateful that she had something to do at long last. Something specific to work with. "And you'll let me be a demon? Bypass the whole suffer and torture bit in Hell?"

"Lilith has promised you that Andrea. I know how much you want it."

When she was a human, a full human her parents had neglected her. She didn't remember much of it. She remembered trying to please them in a quest she couldn't succeed. And then one day it all changed when two demons walked in and killed them. Andrea knew who she wanted to go with.

From the moment Celeste had laid her eyes on Andrea, she had known that she wanted to use the girl for something but they weren't certain what for. So she and her husband raised Andrea. Andie didn't consider herself wholly human because of that. Since she was fifteen she'd been doing small odd jobs for demons, trying to prove her worth. Trying to be one. She helped keep hunters of their tails when she could and thus she had managed to learn how hunters worked and how to avoid their suspicions. Something she'd been doing practically forever was immensely easier.

Andrea wanted to be a demon. She wanted to make her family proud, earn them some honor and value with demons and not the disrespect and shame they'd been suffering ever since she was adopted. She wanted to do something, something right for her family. And this was her answer.

She'd met Marissa years ago, searching for that answer. Marissa had nearly killed her when she set foot on her doorstep and realized what she wanted. But she also knew that Andrea was doing this for all the right reasons. Andie suspected that she knew something else too, about the outcome of it, but Marissa wouldn't tell her. She wouldn't talk about it. And Andrea didn't push for answers.

"Sammy, come on! We're leaving!" Dean shouted. Andrea glanced back at Ruby and hurried downstairs to learn what was going on. Sam quickly twisted the cap back onto his canteen and followed his big brother back outside.


	10. It Wasn't Supposed to Happen

It Wasn't Supposed to Happen

Sam and Dean didn't linger five seconds longer than they had to, before they were gone and taking Andrea with them. And Marissa was left alone again, with images of the future dotting her sight. She'd tried her best to get away but it just hadn't been enough. Or maybe she hadn't tried hard enough, she wasn't entirely sure. But in the end it didn't really matter because soon enough she could sense Richard on the outskirts of her range and she had no way to escape him this time. Usually she would move, but it required help and this time she didn't have any. Packing up everything and moving took too much time and she was so well established here, with enough personal connections that she didn't really want to leave everything behind. And Marissa was tired. So, so tired of running all the time…

She waited at home, knowing Andrea wouldn't be calling her anytime soon, knowing the Winchesters would forget about her if they could and that in precisely three hours Richard would show up on her doorstep and haul her into his car and drive off to Illinois. Sometimes she couldn't escape her own future and she hated it, just a little. She at least got to help other people, have an edge over some things… It was a gift and it was a curse and some days were worse than others. She'd been running for a year, had one close call and now this. It wasn't fair, then again nothing hardly was.

She spent her last three hours wandering around her house peacefully, doing whatever crossed her mind as she enjoyed her last hours of freedom. She stood still, arms folded over her chest as she watched Richard get out of his far too fancy car. The red thing gleamed painfully in the bright light, some sort of too expensive sports model that had little practical use aside from speeding. Marissa knew those debts would be huge. Not to mention the ones he'd have from gambling all the time and he would take her and she could be his pretty little sister, the ultimate trump card in every game.

He opened the door and smirked at her, "Hey sis, how ya been?"

"Fine," she replied numbly.

Richard chuckled, "It's been what, two years? And this is the cold greeting I get? C'mon Mari I know you haven't lost your heart yet."

"Leave me alone."

"Oh sissy, you don't mean that do you?" he walked over to her, his five eleven height suddenly not as menacing as it used to be.

His height alone wasn't fearsome, but he himself still was. She still remembered everything he had done, vividly. Marissa doubted she would ever be able to forget the wounds, but compared to Sam's fearsome towering height and his cold snappish anger, Richard didn't look as dangerous as she knew him to be.

"Y-yes," she fumbled for the words, trying to not be intimidated by him. (

"Hm, freedom's been kind yeah?"

She nodded mutely. He reached out, grabbing her by the wrist and yanking her forwards, hauling her outside to his car. She didn't try to fight back, knowing it would have been futile and that it would have resulted in worse for her. She wasn't Richard's sister, especially not when she was with him, she was just a tool, just the trump card to be used and manipulated.

She was eleven when Richard became her legal guardian. He'd gotten so deeply indebted to the wrong people that they killed her parents and left her with a half-brother to watch out for her. But he had never been particularly good with that stuff. And he knew about her powers, but not the extent of them and her hell didn't start until he realized it. Whenever he went out to play, he took Marissa along with him. She was his good luck, so he claimed.

She buckled herself in, leaning against the car door as Richard started driving. If he was in a good mood, things weren't too bad. But he was usually in a bad one, and he didn't get over it so easily. Bruises weren't always that hard to cover up, and the excuses came easier with time. If she tried to avoid it, things only got worse because she couldn't avoid him forever.

"I wasn't expecting to find you here so easily, you left a clear trail all the way to you. It was simple to track you down this time. Did you miss me?"

"Not really, no," she murmured.

He glared at her, "I'm in some serious trouble here Marissa so whatever you think is so important in your life clearly isn't. I could die because of this!"

She kept silent, nodding, pretending she believed him. She knew better than that, she knew that it was his fault for gambling but she also knew that he wasn't going to stop anytime soon. At one time she'd begged him to stop, to get help and she couldn't remember much after that. Her pleas didn't mean anything whatsoever and she was resigned to that fact.

"I'm sorry I ran away," she stated in an almost robotic sounding voice. Slowly already she was separating emotion out of this situation.

"You better be! I could've been killed."

Marissa didn't reply, fearful that whatever she could have said would have made the effect only that much worse. She pursed her lips together tightly, wishing she didn't have to be here. It was a long, silent drive. Richard hated music of any kind, except maybe the blues but those were tainted memories and she refused to linger on them.

"You didn't go out and screw around did you?" he grumbled roughly.

Marissa cringed, "No," she mumbled, trying to avoid his attention, wishing this was all over already.

"Good, good."

He had never believed in her and it was growing increasingly difficult to earn his trust, not that she expected it after running off, but it was part of the reason why she had fled. She had never meant to wind up under his care, guardianship, again. Her intention had been to keep running for the rest of her life and pray that he would forget about her. But that only held true so long as she never met the Winchesters, even though she had suspected she would.

Richard reached over, flicking the radio on and blues music started to filter through the car. Marissa tensed immediately, eyes wide and glancing over at her brother worriedly.

The scent was clean, too clean, almost as though it was tinged with disinfectant which contrasted sharply with the pine freshener dangling from the rear-view mirror. The odor slammed into her suddenly; the future was full of blood…

Abruptly the car swerved onto the shoulder of the highway, gravel crunching under the tires and dust streaming behind the vehicle as it kept driving onwards as though possessed. Marissa blinked back the stars when her head had collided against the window in the sudden movement. She looked over at her brother, noticing his eyes were a strange blackish color when they'd always been brown before.

"Richard…?"

His slap wasn't quite unexpected, it wasn't as though he hadn't hurt her before, but the strength behind this was different and more menacing than ever before, as much as the oddly coordinated movement was while his eyes remained on the dirt path he was driving down. A whimper passed her lips as she numbly rested her hand against her stinging cheek.

"We are going to Minnesota dearest sister," the chilling tone to his voice was eerie and reminiscent of what she'd seen the Winchesters deal with.

"W-why?"

"Because that's where Tartarus's Gate will be opened." He paused, looking over at her and waved his hand in front of her eyes, hypnotic black eyes staring into her skull.

A beautiful blue rose bloomed in front of her mind's eye, something she saw but wasn't there physically before her. When the petals reached their full extent, stretching out to take the moon's light, darkness slammed into her mind and with an agonized cry she clutched her head. As each petal fell, they turned to a rusty red color and dried up. And suddenly, Marissa could no longer see the present and there was no connection to the Winchesters. For the first time in her life, her thoughts were hers alone and she didn't know what was going to happen to her.

Pain flared through her mind, white hot pokers stabbing every time she blinked as her sight slowly dimmed. The blues music cut out abruptly, and the dirt path was replaced by smooth pavement. Marissa groaned weakly, clutching her head, eyes drifting shut against her will, head resting against her shoulder as she fell into a wonderland she'd never experienced before.

X

I woke up with a start, stretching. I noticed Dean's eyes on me through the rear-view mirror and smirked at him. "Like what you see or something?"

"You're not as ugly as I first thought."

"I kinda thought you'd realized that already, what with how you've been watching me so closely I thought for sure you'd noticed…"

"Your attitude isn't quite that disarming," he retorted dryly.

"Sorry, I prefer to wit my men over, it's not my fault if they don't get it," I grinned at him.

A reluctant snort of laughter escaped him. "You are not funny."

"Oh I am, I'm cute and funny."

"And arrogant."

"No, just vain and aware of it."

Dean rolled his eyes and turned to look back at me. "Seriously?"

"What?" I asked, trying to be innocent, playfulness tugging at my smile, giving it an easy to discredit edge.

"You've been really boring lately. I thought you only got to be some fun when you were angry."

"No, not necessarily. I haven't exactly felt at ease or welcome. And I still don't quite feel like I fit, but I do feel a little more at ease and today's just a good day."

"Uh huh…"

"It's very true you know."

"No, I wouldn't know. I don't know you."

I shifted slightly and caught the look he directed at me. "But you're thinking you'd like to."

"I'm a guy and I'm not blind."

"Like your brother?" I asked, more for the sake of curiosity than anything.

"He just chooses not to look, I suppose."

"Or does that other… Woman…? Are they-?"

"No!" he snapped quickly. I wasn't sure if he was offended at the fact that I was asking if his little brother was sleeping with a demon, or if he was trying to hide the fact that little Sammy was.

"Sorry," I murmured, not quite sure if I meant it. Curiosity had its limits of what answers I could achieve. "So do you want to get a bite while Sam investigates? That's where he is right?"

"Yeah, but he'll be back shortly."

"There's a diner ten steps away, please?" I let a pleading note enter my voice, looking at him hopefully. "He'll know we'd be there. And it's not like we have to watch him."

I knew that he had to be hungry; it'd been at least four hours since we had last taken a break and even longer since we had made a stop for food. Sam had been all gung ho to get here and get this case over and done with. It didn't seem like there were any connections to whatever demon he was obsessed with hunting, which I knew was Lilith, but they'd been careful to keep that information hidden from me. And because she wasn't involved, Sam just wanted to get this over and done with.

"Oh fine." It was only supposed to be a five minute interview, not the half an hour one it had turned into.

The recently deceased had apparently been rising from their graves. If they had died within the last year they could be revived. Dean seemed a little on edge lately and Sam was rushed and busy and didn't seem to even notice it. I knew that Dean had been saved from Hell by the angels and that there was a price of some sort that he was expected to pay at least for the angels. As far as the demons' interest in this went, Dean needed to be removed from the equation yet again and that was what my role was.

Dean needed to be removed so that Ruby could more easily influence Sam and get him to kill Lilith in order to release Lucifer from Hell. Lilith had sent Ruby on this quest over a year ago and only at the start of this one had I been involved in this quest. No one else knew; no one else could know. They would be too much of a liability if any other hunter caught wind of what was going on, our jobs could become impossible. I had the advantage of being a human, but that would only take me so far.

We got out of the Impala and started towards the diner, comfortable silence resting between us.

"Did you get tired of waiting for me or something?" Sam called as he effortlessly caught up to us.

"Well yeah, sorta. It's been half an hour and I'm starving!"

"I was getting some good feedback, but food would be awesome," he added with

a sheepish smile.

"And anyways, we figured you would've known where we'd gone off to," Dean gestured to the diner as we entered it.

"This isn't your guy's way of having a date is it?" apprehension drowned his voice out.

"No!" we both replied quickly. It would have been nice if I had thought of that earlier, but I had been more concerned with actually eating than I was with romancing him and starting a relationship in order to kill him.

"Good."

We went to a table by the window and sat down, a perky blonde waitress jogging up to us, her eyes immediately on Dean. I glanced at her, briefly wondering why I was so easy to dismiss. If she wanted tips from women, she wasn't going to be getting any from me. For all she knew, I could have been with Dean. Maybe it was in the seating arrangements that made it seem like we weren't together, or our body language I wasn't sure.

"So what can I get for you?" she briefly spared a glance at Sam and me.

"A bacon cheeseburger, onion rings and a coffee," Dean said, giving her a flirtatious smile.

"A BLT and a tossed salad, glass of water please," Sam replied absently, his laptop on the table as he started researching deeper into the case. Well, that's what I was assuming anyways.

Her gaze rested briefly on me as she scrawled down what Sam had ordered. "I'll have a…" I paused, considering what I was in the mood for, "beef dip and a coke."

She wrote it down, turned and strutted off, Dean's eyes following her. I rolled my eyes, refusing to draw any further attention to myself by doing something as petty as crushing his foot or elbowing him despite how I wanted to. I was definitely feeling better today.

"So what did Mrs. Hartley have to say Sammy?"

"Not much," he paused, frowning at his screen and lowered it enough to see us. "Just that her husband's grave wasn't the only one to be desecrated in the last week. Apparently two weeks ago there was a terrible crash between a car and a minivan; the van's occupants were hurt, but they came out alive. The driver, a young man who's identity wasn't made public, was in a coma for a few hours before he died. Two days after his burial, his grave was robbed of the body."

I frowned, "That's serious disturbing. Not hunter work, that's for sure."

"We cover our tracks better than that, even the rookies," Dean retorted a little impatiently.

"I just meant…"

"No, there's something else at work here, that's for sure," Sam said confidently.

"What goes around stealing bodies?"

"The Body Snatcher?" Dean snickered.

Sam and I shared similar expressions of cluelessness as we looked at Dean. He sighed and didn't bother to try and explain his reference of unknown origins. The waitress came back, delivering our drinks with a peppy smile at Dean that made me want to strangle her before she skipped off. Literally, skipped off. I glared after her, debating the merits of beating her up and reluctantly decided that I wanted to eat more than I wanted to pulverize her, but it was a close call.

I glared at my coke for a minute before taking a drink of it, letting the sugar roll over my tongue, enjoying the taste. I stared at the dark liquid, watching the bubbles build up and pop, the scent washing over me and allowing myself to calm down a little.

"Are you addicted to sugar?" Dean smirked, watching me speculatively.

"No," I replied curtly, sipping on my sugar loaded drink.

"Really? It does kinda look like you're being revived by it," Sam observed, smiling slightly.

"I like my sugar and caffeine okay?" I growled at them, holding my drink protectively.

They both laughed at that, Sam shook his head. "That stuff's way too full of sugar for me –drink as much as you want of it."

Dean looked at my drink and started to reach for it, but stopped when the waitress returned with our dinner and I couldn't help but wonder if she'd put a rush on it or something because of Dean? She served each of us our meals and I caught her put something into his coat pocket with a flashy grin and a wink before walking off, her hips swaying as Dean watched. I noticed where his eyes were going because I was watching him. And Sam was watching me. I turned my attention to my sandwich and the hot gravy waiting for me, glancing at Sam's ice water.

Dean pulled out the card which she had presumably written her number on and smirked arrogantly, like it was such a big deal. He could check me out and not make any moves although it seemed like he might have wanted to, and somehow that irritated me more than anything else. I snatched an ice cube from Sam's water when he was reading something online and yanked the shirt collar closest to his skin away and dropped the cube down it as he tried to say something about saving it for the bedroom.

He squeaked. Literally squeaked, sort of effeminate sounding and Sam looked up just in time to see Dean's body spasm, jerking as the ice cube slid down his torso. He yanked his shirts away and swatted the considerably smaller offending ice cube from his body and fixed me with a fierce glower.

"What the hell was that for?" he demanded.

"Because I could!" I growled, aggressively shoving my sandwich into the dip, slopping gravy over the edges.

Sam snorted under his breath and Dean glared at him too. "Something funny Francis?"

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

I wolfed down my sandwich, still irked by Dean's behavior and his cluelessness. Sam didn't even try to explain it to Dean and we all ate in silence. Paid the bill, and headed out to the Impala. I claimed the backseat as I knew it was my spot and we headed back to the motel.

X

Dean checked into the motel, getting one room with two beds and another adjoining one. He went back outside to grab his duffel, still irritated at Andrea. She made no sense. He had made no advancements on her, and checked her out on occasion. He had eyes! Was he just not supposed to look or something? He was grumbling under his breath as he headed back inside and heard Sam shout out in surprise.

Dean raced into the room, half expecting to find a demon or angel about to attack Sam but froze when he saw nothing. He tucked his gun away, not even aware of when he'd pulled it out. He looked around the room, and finally noticed what it was that had his brother's attention. The little psychic, Marissa, was laying on what would have been Dean's bed, bloodied and bruised and unmoving.

The wall beside her adorned with vile words written in blood. And based on the bloodstains her clothes had, he guessed that it was her own blood.

_Don't look into death,_

_Death's eyes burn red,_

_And the gate shall be opened._

_Psychic's power like a prophetess,_

_Not protected by heavenly warriors._

_Traitor's soul burned black,_

_Desiring what no one wants._

_Tartarus's Gate will be opened again._

* * *

_I feel much more inclined to write if I get reviews; they spur me to write faster and I just love to get feedback and know what my readers think. _

_I have been intending to bring Andrea's humor back for awhile and I was actually expecting it to be a little harder than it was; it'll likely stick around much longer now though. _

_Thank you for reading, please share your thoughts, a__nd have a great day!_


	11. Flirtatious Disobedience

Flirtatious Disobedience

"Does she have a pulse?" he asked, worriedly approaching Marissa.

Sam pressed his fingers against her neck, the flickering of a pulse slightly welcome. It wasn't nearly as strong as it should have been though. It was probably evident on his face from the way Dean reacted.

"Cas! We need your help," he said, quickly pulling up Marissa's shirt to expose the injury on her stomach, he hissed in displeasure.

Marissa groaned quietly, her eyelids fluttering as the sound of rustling silk filled the room. Castiel stood at the end of the bed, overshadowing the teenager's small, pale frame. Sam noticed blood dampening her sleeve and quickly pulled it up, exposing a wound they hadn't noticed earlier.

Cas reached out, setting his hand on her foot and healing her immediately. The flesh knit itself back together, but the spilt blood remained where it was. Dean lowered her shirt back down, pulling the blankets up to her chest. She was breathing evenly now, and although there was no need for it, Sam checked her pulse again. She'd be okay.

"She will be alright."

"Thank you," Dean turned to him.

"Try and keep her safe, while she remains with you."

"W-what?" Sam looked between the two of them; when had this become part of the plan?

"She is being targeted by this… _thing_. I do not understand why, but you must keep her safe."

"Of course we will Cas," Dean said, looking down at the psychic.

"Do you have any idea what this means?" Sam gestured to the bloody writing on the wall.

Castiel turned to look at it, frowning he mouthed the words to himself and turned his head to the side a little. "It seems this… creature, wants to open Tartarus. The Greecian Hell."

"Why would anyone want that?" Dean muttered. "The demons don't even want to unleash Hell on earth. They like being free from it. Anyone would…"

"Perhaps for an ulterior motive, Dean. I do not understand why they have chosen to act upon this, least of all why now. The demons are trying to bring Lucifer into this world, the seals are breaking and the dead rising, but this has no apparent purpose…"

Dean curiously set his hand on Marissa's forehead and frowned worriedly. He hadn't thought that the flush to her cheeks was natural, or good. "She's got a fever…"

"How's that possible?" Sam looked at the angel almost mistrustfully.

"I… Do not know." His eyebrows knit together as he set his hand on her forehead. A quiet, "ah" escaped his lips and he drew back. "She will be fine with rest; by tomorrow morning all will be well."

"What's wrong with her?"

"She's dreaming." And apparently that was all their friend was willing to share with them, because he was gone in a silken rustle.

"How is this just a dream?" Dean muttered to himself.

He glanced back at Sam and then towards the doorway, noticing Andrea. Her arms were crossed underneath her chest, her lips pressed together in a fine line, looking just a little less than kissable. (But Dean was willing to bet that if he kissed her, she would be more than willing to loosen up a little) Her dark hair was twisted back in a ponytail of some sort, exposing her eyes, framed with long lashes.

"What happened to her?" Andrea asked from the doorway, watching concernedly.

"I don't know," he murmured, looking at Marissa. "I just hope it wasn't because of us."

Sam moved off his bed, pulling the blankets over her gently. "We'll find out when she wakes up."

Andrea sighed softly, "I've never seen her looking so fragile…"

"She'll heal up just fine."

"I know, but…"

"This life isn't for her," Sam stated, looking at Marissa impassively.

"She's been in it since she was born," Andie protested. "You can't expect it to just leave her alone when it hasn't before."

"We don't know anything about her, not really. Or about you Andrea," Dean glanced at her sharply. "What do you know about her?"

"You want to save her," she growled defensively. "You _have to want _to save her!"

"I do! But I can't do anything to help her if I don't know what did this to her!"

"Well how am I supposed to tell you?" she barked. "Anyways _you're_ the one that didn't let her come with us!"

"I didn't see you sticking your neck out and saying take her with us!"

"Of course not! You're too much of a stubborn jack ass to see it! She's not usually that desperate from how you said she was acting –you should've known."

"Oh really?" he sneered. "And how would I know that Andrea? Huh? I met her once! You're her friend, isn't it your duty to save her and help her out? Don't friends do that for one another?"

A crisp slap echoed throughout the room. Silence lingered around it, Dean rubbing his cheek with dark eyes and tight lips on his face. Andrea stomped off to her room and slammed the door shut.

"Bitch," Dean muttered under his breath and turned away.

Silence echoed between them, awkward and weighty. Sam took that moment to look over at Marissa; she still had a bright, almost feverish flush to her complexion.

"Why didn't Cas cure her of this too?" he murmured, more to himself, trying to end the awkward silence after Andrea's temper tantrum.

"You watch her," Dean stated, he turned away and stormed out of the room. He was probably frustrated by his own response to her, for having let his temper get control.

Sam had no trouble with leaving Dean to cool off. He only hoped he didn't do anything too stupid. He sat down in the chair near the bed and pulled out his laptop. Mrs. Hartley had provided some interesting information for them to work with. It hadn't really given them any answers, but at least they knew a little bit more. As for Marissa, he wouldn't be getting any answers from her until she was awake. And even then, Andrea might just take over and pick and choose what she wanted them to know.

Sam searched for the record of the accident that she'd spoken of. The driver that had died, she had said his name hadn't been released to the public; however Sam was quickly able to find it. Dick Holloway, twenty-five years old. It was apparently quite a horrific accident due to the speed he was driving and it was more or less a miracle that the victims had survived. Apparently Holloway had no family to mourn him; his mother had died when he was only an infant and he'd been sent to live with his father who had passed away six years ago.

Marissa mewled softly in her sleep, shifting, kicking at the blankets. It looked like her fever might have risen. Sam frowned worriedly and shut his laptop, setting it down as he reached over to check her fever. As soon as his hand touched her brow, he was somewhere else entirely. He was certain that his body must have fallen off the chair or something, but the psychical sensation wasn't there.

XI

Marissa waved at Sam enthusiastically and rushed over to him, hugging him tightly. He returned her hug happily, chuckling softly, a sound that she was able to hear reverberate in his chest. She nuzzled him briefly happy to see him.

It was a scene she'd seen so often, and something she was hopeful to experience in life. And it had to be Sam. She knew that if it were anyone else, things just wouldn't be right. She would always know that it was Sam she was supposed to be with. She wouldn't be complete without him.

"I missed you," she murmured, looking up at him with big eyes.

He smiled slightly, "I missed you too." He paused, looking around curiously.

"I'm so happy you came to get me," she giggled, nuzzling his chest again. He was very comfortable.

Sam hesitantly pulled her closer, "How… are you?"

"Good. Aside from the fact that real you can be a big jerk. But I know we'll be together anyways, like this, at least I'm pretty sure…" She shrugged amiably.

What did it matter anyways? Here they were together. They could always be together here. It was a nice place. Things happened just the way she wanted them to. Unlike how she so desperately wanted things to be in reality, this possibility seemed so unattainable.

"Wh-what? We get married? Does Dean?"

"Briefly, to a woman in Vegas and she gets pregnant and they get a divorce… The usual, I suppose, for him." She sighed contently, holding onto him tranquilly. She listened to his strong, steady heartbeat, smiling.

"How is that his usual?" he brushed her hair over her shoulder.

"The woman for him, that he should be with, well he never stays with her. He thinks she's too good for him. But eventually, once you guys both give up hunting, he goes back to her and they get married and live happily ever after."

Sam snorted. "Really? Happily ever after?"

"Uh huh. Basically."

"Hunters don't get happily ever afters Marissa. They get a platter of misery to go home to every day, and you can never stop hunting."

"You can," she replied confidently. "I've seen both of you do it."

"Oh? You have, have you?"

"I see lots of things," she inhaled his scent lightly before pulling back to look at him.

"I've noticed," he smirked playfully, his fingers gliding through her hair effortlessly. "So tell me about Dean's ah, happily-ever-after-wife?"

"She's pretty, and sweet. She's the daughter of a police officer who abandoned her family and as she grew up, her mother got sick and she and her brother took care of her. But they were poor, and both worked jobs, it's around here that Dean meets her, sometime in the future, and he helps her as best he can. But it its too late and she wouldn't accept his money anyways, but she did take his comfort.

"But he couldn't stay forever because you need his help. So Dean leaves her, after he tells her the truth and she accepts it, and knows how to defend herself. He helps you and forgets about her, for a while at least."

Sam frowned, "So I'm always ruining his happiness huh…?"

"You're brothers. Dean doesn't mind, doesn't even think of it that way."

"I know, but still…" He shook his head. "How pretty is Dean's wife?" A smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. "As pretty as you? Because I find that hard to believe," he leaned down and pecked her cheek.

"I-I don't know… Y-you really think I'm pretty?"

"You are, Mari. You're beautiful," he kissed her jaw lightly, sending shivers through her. "Surely you know that?" He pecked her neck, smirking as he felt her shiver from his touch.

Sam gently pulled her closer against her, sucking a hickey onto her neck. Marissa shuddered, gasping quietly, not knowing what to expect. She'd never had a dream like this before; hers were always concerned with events that were going to take place in the future, but now she was still present her and this was definitely present Sam. There was no mistaking that.

She couldn't help but wonder what he would look like without his shirt, his muscular chest there for her to explore and admire. He licked the mark gently, pulling back and kissed her softly. Marissa eagerly returned it, her arms going around his neck. She felt his encircle her waist, bringing their bodies closer together as he teased her lip.

"S-Sam," she gasped hesitantly.

"Yes?"

"I-I…"

"Mmm?" he kissed down her jaw, apparently content so long as he was kissing some part of her. She felt his hands shift slightly, the hem of her shirt trapped between his hands.

"I-I'm only sixteen."

"Age isn't important." He seemed to dismiss the problem effortlessly, nipping lightly down her jaw.

"B-but…"

"Shh," he leaned down and kissed her softly, silencing her with what had to be the sweetest kiss in the world. He slowly pulled back, smiling warmly as he caressed her cheek tenderly.

"You're amazing," she told him, completely awed by him.

His shirt disappeared suddenly and their surrounding whirled into a bedroom, a flurry of activity between the two of them and suddenly it seemed as if she wasn't there anymore, not _feeling_ his touch as much as she craved it, but rather just watching dispassionately. Beside her she caught sight of some plaid fabric and turned to look, noticing that there was another Sam beside her too, watching with something akin to fascination.

"This seems so… wrong," she murmured to herself, shuddering slightly as she heard their other selves pleasuring one another.

"It, it is. Of course it is," he retorted, his voice rougher than usual and his green eyes a smidgen murkier.

Marissa slowly turned so her back was to what was going on, for some reason actually leaving the room never crossed into her mind. It took Sam a moment longer before he turned as well. Marissa idly leaned against him. She knew that it was just a dream. She couldn't possibly imagine what it was like to make love with someone, it seemed something almost otherworldly. A dream. She'd never even been kissed by a boy; she hadn't had the opportunity and she suspected even if she had, she wouldn't have taken it. Sam was the only one for her. She just wished he knew it too.

XI

Sam woke up with a start, eyes wide. He drew back from the bed, having half collapsed on it, his hand still on Marissa's forehead. It was a strange dream, fuzzy and half recalled, but it was there… It seemed like a bubble of sweetness, wrapped up in bright pink wrapping paper. A kind thought, but too sweet almost, too good. Very innocent, if anything. A hint of desire, surrounded by a school girl's crush. Cute.

He noticed it, rather belatedly, that her fever was gone. He pulled his hand back quickly and shifted, watching her intently. When he tried to think of the dream, the dream that felt so real, that he instinctively knew he had shared with her, he could remember nothing specific except for the warm feeling it had left behind. It wasn't a bad thing, but it was certainly something he could not place anywhere. A dream like this wasn't something that anyone who was part of a hunter's world could have. Innocence like that, would die. And it seemed like it was such a shame that it would have to die…

She stirred, a soft groan escaping her lips, her eyelids slowly opening and then closing again, as though the light was painful, or they were too heavy to hold open. She exhaled softly, her eyes opening, revealing greenish-gray eyes. A small smile flickered to life and held there, and as she noticed him, soft color flooded her cheeks.

"S-Sam?" she murmured tiredly. "How did you-? Where am I?"

"You're in Minnesota now. No, I don't know how you got here. I was hoping you could tell me that part of it."

Marissa frowned, sitting up slowly; she grimaced and set her hand across her stomach, where her wound had been. Her pale blonde hair slipped down over her shoulders as she shifted, the waves melding together several different shades. She absently pushed her hair back, frowning in concentration.

"If it doesn't come to mind right away, don't force it," he advised quietly. "Sometimes things happen naturally."

"I-I was with my brother… In a car, and we were driving to… And then he pulled over and I hit my head and-and…" Her eyes widened suddenly and she looked up at him sharply.

"What…?"

"And he told me, that Tartarus's Gate would be opened again, but he needed my, my blood. He said it was because I was the prophetess, the psychic born without a bloodline to support it." She looked away, focusing on the wall. She exhaled again, shakily, running a hand through her hair.

"Your brother's possessed," he stated.

"Y-yes, I know…" she sighed deeply, her eyes drifting shut.

"Are you alright?"

"As well as I can be, I believe. I'm just tired."

"Castiel healed you, he's –"

"An angel, I know Sam. I've seen it." At his silence, she seemed propelled to continue. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to be curt…"

He snorted, "That's your idea of curt? It was a reminder more than anything else."

She smiled shyly, shifting slightly; she turned to look back at him and noticed the writing on the wall. She cringed.

"Afraid of blood?"

"No… It just makes my stomach churn to know that its mine. That that was why I was cut open and left to die…"

"More like left to be found," he murmured softly, trying to soothe her fears.

"If you'd been out researching, I would have died."

"We didn't really save your life…"

Marissa looked down at her lap, biting her lip shyly, she nodded reluctantly. "I-I understand."

It was then that the door opened and Andrea stepped out of her room. She looked a little surprised to see Marissa sitting up and a smile broke out on her face, rushing over to the psychic, she hugged her friend tightly. Sam got the idea that this was a reunion for the two of them, so he took his laptop and left to go research. Dean would be back sooner or later anyways and the two of them had to work out the issue on their own. Sam had no intention to get in between the two of them.

* * *

_I wish there was a rating of Older Teen, because that's what I would choose the rating to be for this story. Sigh._

_Anyways, I now know exactly where I'm going to go with this story and finally this crazy hectic month is over so I can start writing some more :D_

_As always, please review, and have a great day!_


	12. The Art of Seduction

The Art of Seduction

"Where's Dean?" Marissa asked finally, after they'd finished eating.

Sam had left her and Andrea for a few hours while he researched about the bloody writing and the walking dead, and then returned with food only to find that Dean was still missing. He wasn't worried about him, figuring that he was using the time to cool down and maybe even with that waitress from earlier. He didn't think that Andrea would particularly appreciate that guess, especially if she hadn't drawn that conclusion yet.

"He's out, cooling off," Andrea said, smiling apologetically.

"You got into an argument with him."

"Yeah, he sort of blamed me for not looking out for you, when we're friends and all."

"He's upset, Sam is too. They're worried I got caught up in their bad luck." Marissa smiled slightly as he whirled to look at her. "No, I can't read minds. But I've… Well I've known you for so long that I know how you two are…" she smiled apologetically.

"You haven't even known us for two days," he retorted. "You've observed us for the rest."

"To me it's like knowing you," she replied softly, looking at him through her hair. She impatiently brushed it to the side, "I've seen you die, and I've seen you come back. Sam, I've seen practically everything you've ever done. Some I wish I hadn't, and hell, I wish I could give you the privacy you deserve. But I_can't_. I don't choose what I see."

"Why do you see it?"

She blinked in surprise, and slowly turned away. "I-I don't know." She looked back at him, "I wish I did. I've wondered all my life why me. Why do I see it? Do you know how hard it is for parents to believe a four year old talking about monsters and brothers in what sounded like a great story to them?" Marissa shook her head firmly. "I was lucky they didn't send me for psychiatric help, they just thought I had a great imagination and had me write everything down."

"Any idea why it's us that you've seen?"

"I…" she paused, choosing her words carefully. "I think it's because you and your brother are important to this world and its survival. Beyond that, why I don't see global disasters and whatnot? I don't know."

"How do you live like this?" Andrea asked, awe filling her voice. "I mean, I would go nuts if I had this gift and no set purpose in life. I thought –well assumed that you knew more."

She shook her head sadly, worrying her lip, seemingly unaware of it. "I wish I did…" She paused, looking at Sam, her gaze lingering before she turned away again.

She did have one purpose that she was aware of, that she had been clinging to since she was seven. It was a pretty pathetic one, really, but she'd known that she was going to marry Sam since then and she knew she had to bring him back from the brink. Sometimes, she'd thought it was all just a dream. Sometimes, she'd wondered if Sam was even real. Most of the time though, she'd known he was real, that he was out there.

A brief vision slammed into her mind, and she whimpered, pressing her hands to her head, willing the pain away as she tried to focus on the vision. Andrea blocked Sam, keeping him from Marissa, allowing her to concentrate further. The pain receded abruptly and she leaped headfirst into the vision.

_"So Dean…"_

_He looked at Perry curiously, watching her as she circled him. She told him that her name was an unfortunate one, and she did loathe it, but there wasn't much she could do with it. Dean had to agree that it was most certainly a weird name for a woman, but people can't help with what name they were born with._

_"I've really enjoyed your company these last few hours…"_

_"But?" he pressed, dryly as he buckled his belt, his shirt sitting beside his boots. He reached for his socks, "It's time for me to go?"_

_"Yeah. Look, my boyfriend will be back any moment now and he won't be happy to see that I've… had a guest."_

_He chuckled, "Course he wouldn't. You're beautiful Perry, and any man who leaves you for more than a day is a fool."_

_She smirked, a haunting thing of beauty, stretching idly. Dean's eyes were practically glued to her. "I told him that, and you know, I think my last lover did too actually."_

_"What happened to him?" he had pulled his socks on, and was reaching for his boots._

_She turned to him, grinning. "He died."_

Marissa panted softly as she came out of the vision, forcing the pounding headache back. Visions like this were usually nothing –she had them all the time but for some reason this one was particularly draining. And the fact that she couldn't see anything more concerning Dean was particularly alarming.

"What did you see?" Sam demanded. Andrea moved out of his way, shooting Marissa a concerned look.

"D-Dean, he's with a woman… Perry? He was fine!" she added hastily. "At that moment, he was fine b-but he won't be. She's gonna do something to him, I think. I don't know. I can't see… I-it's sorta like something's blocking my visions but that's-!"

"Look it's either like that or not," Sam snapped. "_Is _something blocking you?"

"I-I dunno. It's never happened before…"

"Do you ever know anything about your gift?"

Marissa flinched, "Oh, so it's all my fault! I know when you were seeing things you didn't have answers either!" she shouted in frustration. Exhaustion was worming its way into her body, and there was a dull ache in her skull.

Sam froze, his green eyes narrowing into a furious glare at her. "My answers weren't so pleasant," he growled.

"I didn't mean- I'm sorry…"

"Hey! You don't need to be such a stuck-up jerk!" Andie snapped, shifting so she was in Sam's way and when he tried to avoid her she moved so that she remained in his way. "She's in pain and tired and you're yelling at her!"

"I'm worried about my brother!"

"Oh really?" she sneered. "Seems more like you're too worried about Dean, because there are other people here and maybe you would have remembered what it's like to have a vision, seeing as you've had them before. You can't blame your problems on Marissa!"

He cringed a little and Andrea stepped back, apparently satisfied with what she'd told Sam. He turned to look back at Marissa and she avoided meeting his gaze.

"I'm sorry… Are you… Are you okay?"

She nodded, stubbornly refusing to meet his gaze. "I think you should go ah, find him."

"I bet it was the waitress!" Andrea announced. She glanced over at her friend, "You'll be alright while we leave?"

"Uh-huh. I'll just… take a nap." She lay back down, amongst the pile of pillows. Suddenly, sleep seemed like a great idea.

Sam hesitated briefly; he flicked the light off for her, shut and locked the room before following Andrea. He was betting it was the waitress too.

XII

"You can't see him," the jeering voice came from the nothingness that surrounded her. "It would be wise for you to give up."

She whirled around, trying to see past the thick black fog that had spread through the area. If she held her hand in front of her face, she could just barely see it. A bitter scent wafted through and the fog shifted, an even darker shadowy figure outlined in it.

"You can't take my visions away," Marissa protested.

"No, but I can limit them. And besides that, they're just a nuisance to you."

"Don't. Let me see him please? I have to help them."

"You just think you have to –you don't though. You know your purpose is to save Sam –not Dean. Especially when you're letting him die, or rather will let him die." He cackled, an eerie inhuman sound echoing in the darkness.

"They need me to help them!" she practically whined, desperate to be understood. She had to help the Winchesters. No one else would, or could, and she had a gift that would be invaluable to them. She had to do something with what she'd seen, and she didn't want to give up either. They needed her.

"You just think you do Miss Faith. You fail to understand that you have no place in their lives. They do not need your help; they've done just fine without you for years." A wicked grin materialized in the fog, entirely made of the ghostly phenomenon. "You're just a silly little school girl with a silly little crush."

Marissa flinched as though she'd just been slapped. Maybe she was young. She didn't think sixteen was old, but sometimes it sure felt like it. She'd lived on her own for two years already. And she'd been dreaming of the Winchesters for as long as she could remember. She'd known she would save Sam; pull him back from the edge of despair and bloody chaos. Yet for all that, she didn't know if she would succeed. She saw the currents of the future, happy and sad. And for every happiness, there was always sadness.

"And what if I am?" she cried.

But there was no response, only her voice echoing back at her. Slowly the thick fog faded, a warm salty breeze blowing it back. No one stood there. She was alone, by the ocean. A shudder passed through her and she shifted away, watching the sun rise above the horizon, painting it a gentle rosy hue.

XII

Andrea lingered in the doorway, unsure if the scene she was about to burst in on was going to humiliate her or not. It didn't really matter. Dean was in danger and she knew better than to doubt the psychic. Sam pushed past her and strode up the stairs to where the bedroom (presumably) was. He'd tried calling Dean, but there hadn't been a response and his cell phone GPS had led them here.

Andrea followed after him reluctantly, and just as she was about to go upstairs, the tree leapt free from its pot and wrapped its leafy limbs around her. A startled cry escaped her lips, as she struggled futilely. She swore she could see a face in the flexible, nubile bark with leaves outlining the body. She saw Sam open the door and get dragged in, leaving her alone to fight this wood creature.

"Relax," the strange thing cooed.

Andrea struggled harder, trying to get ahold of one of her knives. She wasn't going down without a fight and there was no way in freaking hell that she would let a _tree-thing _kill her. Its hold on her got impossibly tighter, more constricting. Every breath she tried to take, it took the opportunity to tighten around her until she could only gasp for breath.

"Stop fighting."

There wasn't much she could do, her vision starting to get black spots. She relaxed herself, grabbing onto the hilt of one of her knives, feeling a little more at ease. The iron grasp around her diaphragm let loose and Andrea sucked in a deep lungful of air, grateful for it.

She kept still as the grasp on her kept loosening, tightening her grip on her knife, and the instant she had enough room, she whirled and stabbed the knife hilt deep into what would have been the thing's chest. Or should have been. Olive green eyes widened in shock and the appearance of a tree half wilted, allowing Andrea to more clearly see the humanoid aspects of the monster. A leafy branch swatted out, knocking her feet out from under her. She grabbed another knife as the tree-thing fell onto her, the knife embedded in her fragile bark yanked out, dripping blood. Andrea attempted to stab her again, but the bloody knife deflected her blow to the side.

She jerked, avoiding the knife that was coming for her. Andrea struggled and shoved the heavy tree-creature off of her, slamming her knife into its chest again. It squealed and squirmed, slashing at her leg. She quickly stepped back as the thing convulsed, slowly dying as it reverted back into a tree. Andrea panted heavily, not aware of how exhausting this had been. She was suddenly aware of her shaking leg and kneeled down, careful of it, taking a breather.

A door slammed and she whirled to look back at it, noticing that Sam was helping Dean out of the room. He was favoring one leg and wearing a muscle shirt with jeans, his other shirts and jacket slung over his back. He looked exhausted. Sam just looked weary.

"What the hell was this?" she demanded, indicating the monster as she got to her feet.

"A nymph," Dean muttered. "That's what _Peribaea _said anyways." He shuddered slightly.

"His ah, latest girlfriend turned out to be one."

"Don't go blabbing it!" he snapped, glaring at Sam.

"Whatchya gonna do, huh, Mr. Crippled?"

Dean glared at him, "Bitch."

Andrea got up slowly, her leg almost giving out; she quickly adjusted her stance and looked at her leg. Suddenly aware of the wetness trickling down her foot, she pulled her pant-leg up. There was a shallow slash along her shin. She let her pant-leg down again before hobbling after the brothers, out to the Impala. Dean was forced to sit in the passenger seat due to his injuries.

"How's Marissa?" he asked gruffly.

"She's alright. Woke up, ate and talked with us for awhile."

"What happened to her?"

"Brother kidnapped her apparently, but he was possessed. She hit her head and he told her the same thing about Tartarus's Gate opening again."

"And she had a freaky dream," Sam added as he drove.

"How do you know that?" Andrea was shocked; Marissa hadn't said a thing about that.

"Because when I touched her forehead I was zapped into it."

"Whoa. Any ideas on what could cause that?"

"Any sleep god could, and so could any of a few thousand dream gods. Some other creatures I'm sure of, probably a few I haven't thought of. The problem is that I don't know which is any more likely. Currently I'm thinking it's Greek because of the reference to Tartarus's Gate."

"What is that?" she couldn't help but ask.

"In Greek myth, there are three places the dead could go to. The Elysian Fields, for heroes: the Asphodel Fields for everyone else: and Tartarus for evil doers."

"Who would want to open _that?_"

"A psychopath," Dean growled. "Fuck, it's not enough that they're trying to free Lucifer? Now they've gotta try and free the god of the underworld too?" He leaned back against his seat, glaring out the window.

Sam parked the Impala safely and just before he was about to get out, Andrea spoke up. "I'll help the cripple inside, you go check on Marissa."

"I don't know if…"

"He's not that badly injured," she replied confidently.

"I'll manage."

Sam hesitated, then sighed and handed the keys back to Dean before closing the door and heading up to the motel. Andrea got out and met Dean at his door, helping him out. She couldn't help but wonder what had happened to him. He hobbled out, clearly favoring his leg, putting his arm reluctantly around her shoulders as he closed the door.

"So what happened to you?" Andrea asked cautiously, shifting her weight to better support him.

"Went out with that waitress, had a uh fine time… Went to shower and the friggin' water turned out to be a freakin' naiad and she attacked me. Stabbed me in the leg pretty good, before I hobbled away. That dryad had gotten to the waitress already, and I didn't really have anywhere to escape to. The dryad left and I hauled Sam into the room as soon as I could and he stabbed the thing, bandaged me up shoddily and here we are."

He paused and then glared at her. She had the idea that it was something he was doing because he always did it, rather than her having offended him. Andrea smiled slightly and helped him to the motel.

"Don't say anything," Dean ordered gruffly.

"I won't."

"But you just did," he pointed out.

"You started this conversation!" she retorted, amusedly.

"It doesn't matter."

We stopped at the staircase, and Andrea looked at him. "Are you going to be able to climb it…?" she asked, more seriously.

"Of course," he snapped.

She hurried to keep up with him, supporting him as he started to ascend the stairs. It didn't take long before she realized that she shouldn't have asked him and just went and got Sam. He was trying to be the tough guy, and suffering for it. The pain from her ankle started to burn through her leg as she helped him up the stairs. Two cripples helping each other. If she'd had the energy to spare, she might've burst out laughing at the absurdity of the scenario.

* * *

_Thank you so much for the reviews!_

_Enjoy the chapter, have a great day_


	13. A Pact that can't be Broken

A Pact that can't be Broken

Sam flicked the light on without thinking, a soft groan sounding from the mound of moving blankets on the bed. "Sorry Marissa," he said, hurrying to his bag, pulling out their own first aid kit. He went to the second bed in the room, stripping it and setting up a spot where he would be able to patch Dean up.

"Wha's goin' on?" she mumbled sleepily, slowly sitting up, rubbing at her eyes.

"Dean's hurt," he replied.

"Andie too," she yawned.

He looked back at her, surprised. "How bad? Where? _When?_"

"Leg," Andrea stated, her voice strained as she helped Dean into the room.

He glowered sullenly, and determinedly hobbled over to Sam and flopped onto the bed. He ignored them all, apparently content to just pass out.

"So you want me to cut those jeans off?" Sam retorted dryly, eyebrow arched. "And no alcohol to dull the pain? That's unlike you."

Dean grumbled and sat up. He slowly eased back onto his good leg, and looked surreptitiously over at Marissa. She understood what he wanted, feeling that she was too young probably or something like that at least, she dived underneath the blankets and stayed there. He undid his pants and shoved them off, seeming completely unaware of Andrea's presence. He paused as he got onto the bed, looking over at her with his trademark smirk. She blushed, caught in the act of staring and looked away.

"Please guys don't do this here," Sam bitched as he handed Dean a bottle of booze to numb the pain.

Dean took a long swig of it before nodding, his eyes going back to hers. "Anyways Sammy, you just focus on patching me up, ignore what I'm doing. Your work is rather important."

"Ha!" he scoffed. "Hard to ignore it Dean when you do it right in front of me, so just keep your flirtations to yourself for the moment."

He started working on his leg, patching it up as best he knew how and as carefully as he could. It didn't do much to limit Dean's pain, but it seemed Andrea's banter did him some good. When Sam had finished the bloody work,

Dean drained the rest of his poison, and pinched the bridge of his nose. He exhaled shakily and Sam left to go wash his hands. Andrea took that opportunity to sit beside Dean, pulling the sheets up over his waist.

"I'm not inept," he retorted impatiently.

"What? I can't help you?" she let just a little bit of hurt seep into her voice.

"I don't need it, okay," he scrubbed at his face.

"How many times has this happened to you?"

"Too many to count."

"Does it ever… hurt any less?"

"Nope."

On his way back from the small bathroom, Sam tossed a roll of gauze at her. It was a mark of Andrea's reflexes that she was able to catch it at all, even though she fumbled slightly. The pounding ache in her foot had come back to haunt her and she grabbed the disinfectant from the first aid kit Sam had left behind and proceeded to bandage herself up. It stung, perhaps more than a little bit, but it could be said that after watching Dean endure what had to be some pretty savage pain, she didn't want to even look like she was in the slightest bit of agony. Dean set his rough, calloused hands over hers and took over bandaging the wound. It started to look less like the work of a five year old, and more like that of a professional.

Marissa watched them curiously from her bed, wringing her hands together absently. Her headache wasn't completely gone which was weird. If she went to sleep then it was always gone and she was back to normal. Things weren't supposed to be like this. She knew how her powers worked, what defined them and how they affected her. But there was no purpose this time. After that strange, strange, realistic dream, she felt different. She could see what Sam was doing easily enough, but there was nothing there for her to see about Dean. Or even Andrea. She was closer to both of them than she was to Sam, so if anything were to work right now, it was that she would be seeing them and not Sam.

She refused to believe that her powers could be changing, something had to be changing them, altering them. She just didn't know what. And she didn't like that at all.

"So why were you guys attacked by nymphs?"

Sam looked over from packing up the first aid kit, "That is a good question. Dean?"

"I think it's because they knew we were hunters."

"But there hadn't been anything to suggest that there were monsters in the area," Sam protested rationally.

"Well I don't know then." He looked over at Marissa. "Do you know?"

She shook her head slowly, hesitantly. "I… My visions are being interfered with. I can't see anyone, except for Sam…"

He turned to look at her, eyes narrowing suspiciously. "Why me?"

"I don't know," she murmured patiently. "I wish I did."

"Well wait a minute," Andrea said. "Whatever attacked Marissa left that warning, something about the Grecian hell right? And then we get attacked by nymphs or whatever, which are Greek too? Coincidence? I don't think so."

"That's a good point but believe it or not, there are other enemies out here, after us."

"Then why bother attacking Marissa in the first place? And leaving an obvious sign of the thing's origins?"

"Well why don't we start off with who would want to open Tartarus in the first place?" Marissa murmured quietly.

"Hades," Sam interjected. "He would want out, but he wouldn't really have a clear way to escape. Persephone, maybe, if she was already out and wanted her husband free too. Or maybe her mother, trying to free her daughter if she was trapped there when the gate was closed."

"How do you know so much about Greek myth?" Andrea asked, looking at Sam as if he were insane for knowing this much about it.

"Misspent summer, before I knew it was all real," he mumbled, looking outside.

Marissa could remember that summer. She was very young, but she just remembered the peace and tranquility it gave her. She could see Sam sitting in the salvage yard in South Dakota, lying on his stomach, reading the _Iliad_ contently, dreaming of some far off adventure full of monsters and brave heroes. At that time, he hadn't believed in it, and Dean couldn't find a reason good enough to justify why Sam couldn't read what he wanted to. At any rate it kept his kid brother out of his hair.

"Why was the gate closed?" Dean asked, forcing the topic away from Sam.

Marissa looked between the two brothers curiously, as Sam turned away from the window. It was a good question. A reasonable one and perhaps it would explain what needed to be. So that they could understand what was going on.

"I don't know, it's not something often talked about, or even mentioned. Most people just consider it myth, I don't know if anyone would know."

"Except for someone who was around that time… Someone like an angel maybe?" Dean suggested.

"Call Cas, maybe he'll have a better idea on all this," Sam agreed.

Marissa watched them curiously, biting her lip gently. She was afraid of what Castiel might tell her about her losing her powers. She prayed it wasn't that, that she wasn't losing her visions. They were inconvenient and unpleasant at times, and she equally hated them and loved them, but they were still apart of her. And she didn't want to give them up. She didn't think she _could_ ever be without them.

"Castiel, please we-"

Dean didn't even finish praying for Castiel, before the angel had appeared. A soft, silken rustle was all that forewarned his presence.

"You cannot keep calling me," he stated, appearing almost stern.

"We need some help," Andrea interjected.

"Wouldn't research first allow this?" he quipped dryly.

"Sorry Cas, please…?"

"I am not a shortcut Samuel Winchester," Castiel turned to fix him with what could only be called a disapproving glare, though it was hardly such a one.

"Please, Castiel," Marissa pleaded softly. "We need your help, and I doubt research would tell us anything we don't already know."

The angel sighed impatiently at sat down awkwardly at the end of Marissa's bed. The young psychic smiled supportively at him, albeit a little nervously. And perhaps Dean thought it odd that she knew the angel's name, but it had been mentioned before and he let it go without asking any further questions.

"And I… I can't see Dean anymore. Or anyone. I-I can only see Sam."

Castiel turned to regard her for a long moment, but he didn't say anything. She wasn't sure if she should be glad or not and eventually decided that she should be glad about it, that the Winchesters would have no reason to distrust her. It wasn't as though she wanted to keep the secret of her knowing Cas, and him knowing her, but the details of that encounter were still just something that she alone should know.

"We were wondering, why and how Tartarus's Gate was closed?"

Castiel turned to the three hunters, all of them gathered around Dean and distant to Marissa and the angel, the only two who didn't exactly fit in.

"It was closed when Zeus feared that Hades wanted to take over Olympus. It was closed at the demise of the Grecian myths."

"How can one open it again?"

"No one knows. There are no records of how the gates to the underworld were shut. Or if they could ever be opened again. It is an old place, older than what you have seen before. As such, it has a different kind of power; a different faith fuels it entirely. Far more rowdy, strong and cruel than what you are used to."

Castiel then stopped and turned to look at Marissa, he reached out and set his hand on her forehead. She stilled, closing her eyes slowly, trusting that he knew what to do. Her headache receded but her visions still only reflected aspects of Sam. The constant current in the back of her mind, much thinner and slower and only following what was going to happen to Sam and what could happen to him.

She was then aware of a whirling sensation, and when she opened her eyes she was no longer in the hotel but rather standing in a small dirt circle, her hand on Castiel's arm. It was most certainly a peculiar place, and that she didn't know how or why they were here only increased her confusion. With a sudden gasp, she realized that this was the place of her last dream. It was much harder to recognize without the fog, but the gentle salt breeze gave it away. She glanced over her shoulder and saw the cliffs there, could hear the sea slamming against them.

"Why are we here?" she asked tightly, her lips pinched together.

"Because there is something you must swear to me." Castiel moved away from her, standing across from her. "You must swear it to me in the utmost confidence Marissa Faith, and hold to it. Should you break it, you will die."

"W-what do I need to swear? Why?"

"God has plans for you that few are overly concerned with, but I must make sure you understand this."

"What?" she asked worriedly, shifting, her arms crossed along her stomach.

"You will find a weapon of power that few can wield. If the Winchesters try to touch or wield it beyond the third attempt, it will kill them. If Andrea lays a hand upon it, she will die. You can use the blade, Marissa, but it is your responsibility. You must not let the good die, and it will be your choice."

"I won't let anyone die," she said, confused about where this conversation was going.

"You also, must swear to give _me_ the weapon when I ask for it."

She frowned slightly and shook her head. It was such a strange question, bizarre. But she had no reason to disagree either. "O-okay, fine. I'll do it, I swear." There was no need for her to have a weapon, let alone one so dangerous. She didn't understand.

"Good." He nodded, in satisfaction. "One small suggestion, before you get your weapon and it is too late, start learning self-defense. The headaches will stop, but you must solve the question of your visions by yourself."

And with that, he placed his hand upon her arm and she sat up with a startled gasp, looking between Sam and Andrea, both leaning over her worriedly. Andrea smirked slightly and giggled before pulling away. Sam blushed faintly and moved back as well, giving her more space. She looked between them confused.

"Sure you're not narcoleptic or something?" Dean teased. "You seem to fall asleep randomly all the time now."

"I'm sure," she replied quietly.

She looked over at Sam. She didn't know what to make of Castiel's crypticness but she knew that she would have to trust him. He was an angel. Perhaps not all angels were good, but Castiel had been good to her and she had already sworn herself to him. It was only prudent that she follow through. There was no reason for him to trick her or anything like that. She glanced at Sam again, standing not too far away, running a hand through his hair. Everyone looked tired.

"Will you teach me?" she blurted it out involuntarily. If she thought about it too long she knew that she would have lost her courage and let it go.

Sam turned to her, confused. "Teach you what?"

"H-how to defend myself… How to fight. I-it seems like something I should know, you know… In case."

"Uh why… are you asking me?" he muttered. Andrea elbowed him sharply in the side with a glare; Dean snorted muffledly as he held a book up close to his face.

"B-because… D-Dean's injured and Andrea has to watch out for him."

"She could teach you just as easily… Probably easier considering you two are closer to height."

"But that wouldn't teach her how to defend herself from a bigger, stronger foe Sammy," Dean snickered.

Sam glanced back at him, annoyed. Marissa looked away, embarrassed. "S-sorry, if its such trouble d-don't worry about it, 'kay?"

Apparently she just wasn't worth the time to train. She didn't think he would have been quite that against the idea though. She bit her lower lip, exhaling slowly. She would have been lying if she said it didn't hurt. It was obvious that Andrea and Dean were both practically forcing Sam to go train her, but he still wouldn't. His reluctance to do so was clear as day. He did not like her at all. She was like the useless little girl trailing after the older kids, with a giant crush that everyone but said crushee knew about and they took pleasure in tormenting her.

That wasn't quite the truth, but it was close to it. Andrea and Dean weren't doing it to hurt her, she was sure of that. Perhaps without realizing it, they were both securing a way for them to be alone together and kick the little children out. That was certainly how she felt. But the dull ache in her heart told her another one. That her dream might never come true, that if she couldn't get close to Sam, she would lose him and her purpose would be wasted. And she would be nothing…

"Fine, I'll teach you," he grumbled.

She couldn't help but wonder if it was too much to ask that he pretend to be happy about it, that she might live in her happy little bubble world?

"Thanks," she didn't mean for the sullen, sulky note of a teenaged girl to slip into her voice, but it had. She cleared her throat. "Thank you." There, that sounded much better. Far more genuine. She then lay down, and yanked the blankets up over her head.

"She like a cat or something? She always seems to be asleep," Dean teased.

Andrea rolled her eyes and Sam looked away. Marissa pulled the blankets closer to her, feeling very childish, and very, very far from being an adult. She didn't understand how this was possibly amusing to them, but if it was, then so be it. She wished they wouldn't do it in front of her though, where she could hear. At least behind her back she would have some privacy to cry.


	14. Tender Care

Tender Care

The sleeping arrangements they made had involved quite a large adjustment, and for the most part an effort from everyone. Except Dean. He seemed to take enjoyment in the fact that he wasn't needed for any help due to his injury. Marissa was moved into the room across the hall with Andrea, leaving Dean and Sam with their usual double room.

The next morning they made plans for what they were going to do over breakfast. It wasn't a very good breakfast, not that any of them had actually been expecting it to be. Andrea was chewing on a muffin that seemed as though it were a week old. It was kinda like a rock and she had no specific reason for why she was still eating it, aside from the fact that it was just something to do while the others went over plans. She still felt half asleep.

Marissa was nibbling on a piece of fresh toast, lightly coated in strawberry jam and the last of four pieces. Dean was drinking some black coffee, his hearty breakfast of eggs and bacon long gone. Sam was drinking a fancier coffee drink that she had promptly forgotten the name of, and his breakfast of hotcakes and fruit was now finished. Their empty plates were stacked at the side of the table, waiting for the waitress to reclaim them for washing as Sam swiveled his laptop to show them a picture.

"This is the gate."

"Looks kinda… elaborate."

The arch appeared to be made of black marble, scaling fifty feet in a giant cavern. Water flowed through it, the gate itself bars of some kind extending down tightly next to each other, no room for even a fish to slip past. Just vaguely could little golden figures be seen that were painted along the arch, detailing something in a language none of them could recognize.

The water was painted as though it were still moving, lapping gently at the bars and moving beyond. Inside the shadows, there was the looming figure of a boat and a cloaked figure leaning on his oar, completely still. Charon, the ferryman perhaps. The Underworld was truly out of dealing death if he no longer stirred.

"Its weird, this drawing," Sam murmured and he quickly clicked open another tab on his laptop. "See this? Looks very similar."

"A little more Gothic," Andrea remarked, looking at the creepy thing.

It was all dark and eerie, twisted metal or stone in impossible, terrifying shapes. A sort of gargoyle like thing hovered above the gate, watching with glowing red eyes. Beyond it, there was nothing to see but thick black fog. Vines spread up the column, and a blue rose bloomed at the top of each one, poppies along the bottom, making for a strange sight indeed.

"That doesn't matter," he retorted. "This similarity is bizarre. There's no explanation for it. Tartarus's Gate and the Dream Gate… One leads to the Underworld and another to Dreamland. Why would they be similar?"

"Maybe… Maybe there's some connection between the gods?"

"But what connection would death have with dreams? Dreams don't kill you, not really anyways."

"Could it be that they were ever worshipped as one in the same? Or associated with each other? Or was this something that only happened after all their worshippers faded from them too? Maybe that's it, considering Tartarus's Gate was built afterwards too. Perhaps it was purposefully built to resemble it."

Sam sighed and nodded in agreement. He researched a while longer while the others ate before putting his laptop away. Marissa stared at the crumbs on her plate, sensing what they were going to ask her next. She wasn't quite sure what to do about it though.

"And there's no one you can go to Marissa?" Dean queried.

"No. No one."

"We'll help you find your brother," Sam told her reassuringly.

Marissa jerked back suddenly and looked at him with big eyes. "I don't… Need you to find him. Really, I don't."

"He's the only family you have left though isn't he? We can exorcise the demon from him and you can go-"

"No!" she snapped, more rudely than she intended to.

She hadn't even realized that she had leapt to her feet either. All three of them were looking at her rather oddly, concernedly too. She felt the wimpy little tears in her eyes and swallowed tightly.

She shook her head. "N-no. Please… Home is wherever he isn't…" And her tears tried to fight her and spill, but rather than just standing there and crying, she hastily went outside, by the Impala where she was out of their sight.

Marissa rubbed at her eyes, willing them to dry, taking a deep breath and composing herself once again. Or at least trying to. Richard possessed was better than Richard un-possessed, she found. At least he was a little more controlled in his manner and it wasn't like there was anything good in her brother to begin with. At least, for what it seemed like. If he'd had a single kindness in him, then she had never encountered it.

It wasn't long until Sam walked out, looking completely apologetic. Marissa was a little pleased that at least he hadn't been forced to come out and get her. Not even a little prodding from the other two had led him here. She smiled shyly at him, looking at the Impala's trunk idly.

"I'm sorry."

"Me too," she murmured. "I… Overreacted."

"I don't think so. I think I said something really wrong, without understanding how your… relationship with your brother is. I know not everyone gets along as well as Dean and I do. And there are times when we want to kill each other, but…"

She swallowed tightly, pursing her lip idly, her head bowed. Her light blonde hair fell down around her, creating a curtain. She didn't know if she should tell him, what she should tell him…

"He… abused me."

She was a little shocked herself when the words escaped her. Sam's shocked gasp was enough to tell her what his reaction was. She took a deep, shaky breath, a tremble going through her.

"My body was h-his punching bag. My powers were his w-way to make money… He would force me to go into the casino with him, and made tell him what was going to win… So he could get free from the debts that were s-saddling him."

A whimper escaped her, and she took another unsteady breath. "My parents were killed when I was twelve, as a warning to Richard. That he owed a lot of money. That they were serious about cutting off one of his hands. S-so he used me… And made the debts go away…"

"Oh Marissa…" he murmured softly, reaching out to her, he wrapped his arms around her, gently enveloping her. "I-I'm so sorry…"

A watery hiccough escaped her, "S-S'okay," she mumbled, hiding her face against his shoulder. "You c-couldn't have known…"

He gently rubbed her back, his chin lightly resting on her head as she tried to not cry and only half succeeded. Her small hands clutched at his shirt, as she trembled against him. He rubbed small, steady circles on her back, hoping to calm her down. At least to help her relax.

"I've… n-never told anyone," she mumbled.

"Why?" the note of horror crept in on its own.

"I d-didn't want to go into foster care… The-they could've been worse and they might not have understood my powers… And I never… Had anyone to tell before…"

"Not even Andrea?"

She shook her head shyly. "Running away was easier, but it didn't… It took awhile before I really got away."

"I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize…" Marissa shyly pulled away a bit, sniffling; she looked up at him and smiled weakly.

Sam couldn't help but smile back at her. He tenderly brushed her hair behind her ear, smiling sweetly at her. "I do. I'm so sorry I brought all this up, Marissa. Really."

She blushed shyly, her eyes on his. "T-thank you."

"And hey, I don't mind training you, honest. I was just being a jerk the other day, alright?"

Marissa smiled teasingly, "You just feel guilty now 'cos I'm defenseless."

Sam blushed a little and nodded. "Well… I've just been such a big jerk to you this whole time, and Dean and Andrea clearly want some time alone, so I was thinking, well… I can make it up to you. I really am, sorry, Marissa…"

"I… No you haven't really been…. All that… Mean…" the protest was dying on her lips even as she said it. She blushed sheepishly.

"I have and you know it. Honestly, Marissa please let me make it up to you. No one'll ever be able to hurt you again. You can stand up for yourself, even to giants like me or Dean and you can take us down. It's just a little help I can give you, please, let me."

She smiled shyly, looking up at him. Nice Sam was back. A part of her wanted to just get up and dance and cheer and rejoice. "I can't say no… I want to learn."

Sam just smiled warmly.


	15. Downtime Suspicions

Downtime Suspicions

"Not that I don't like it here, but we have to leave sometime don't we?" Andrea inquired.

"My leg needs a little longer to heal," he smirked over the table at her as he set another card down.

"Ah," she murmured, setting a card facedown. "It's nice to see that Sam and Marissa are getting along better."

"You mean it's nice that they've left us alone?"

"W-well… Yeah."

"After all that pushing, they finally got it." He tossed his hands in the air.

"I know, I thought they'd never leave," she giggled and moved closer to him.

Dean leaned over, setting his hands on her cheeks and pressed his lips to hers. Eagerly she deepened the kiss, pressing closer to him. He sought entrance and she granted it, her tongue brushing against his in a lingering kiss. He pulled back, his trademark smirk in place. Andrea blushed slightly and rolled her eyes, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

"This is why we're still here, isn't it?"

"I think it's a good enough reason. We're at a dead end on this case anyways, and there haven't been any more reports of the dead walking, so we're waiting."

"I think I like waiting," she got up and moved closer to him, kissing him softly.

Dean pulled her onto his lap, his strong hands gliding up and down her back as the two of them lost themselves in each other. Andrea had been wanting this or so long, to make some sort of progress with his tough hunter and finally he'd let her get a little closer. She was sure it wasn't that much, but at least it was finally something. She suspected that Dean was just glad to have some company other than his brother and eager for a distraction.

The tension between them had been building ever since his idiotic move of going after the waitress. Andrea was anxious to get into his pants and get closer to him, just in order to actually kill him, of course. She was motivated beyond that a little, curious to know what he was like and because she genuinely got along with him without pretending she was someone else.

Yesterday in the restaurant they'd had enough time alone to finally sort things out. An impassioned argument about his loose behavior had led them back to their rooms and a fiery kiss on the stairs as Dean tried to shut her up had led them here. Andrea wasn't one to be easily silenced. She still sort of felt like she owed him unpleasantness from his little tryst with the waitress. Granted, there was nothing between them at that point, or even at this point, it just seemed a little… It infuriated her, was the point.

And Dean was a very, very excellent kisser. Not that she would say it to him, of course, the boy didn't need anymore of an ego boost, but she certainly enjoyed every last moment she had with him alone. If need be, if Sam interrupted them again, she _would_ push him down the stairs. He'd deserved it last time too, for when he came wandering to find them while Marissa was finishing her breakfast, _he_ had been the cause of their… dilemma. She was grateful Marissa hadn't been there and Dean had easily waved Sam off, but the mood was gone by that point and her anger depleted.

Andrea hadn't quite realized how useful a took it was before.

She pulled back to catch her breath, brushing her hair back. "I've been waiting for you, for too damn long," she told him, chuckling breathlessly.

"Impatient much?" he smirked. "You should know that I am more than awesome enough to wait for."

Andrea scoffed, "Oh, oh, really?" she rolled her eyes. "Honestly Dean. You're not the only special one."

"Waiting for Sam are ya? Or Cas? Personally, I think you should just be happy I decided to stop making you wait." He snorted, smirking at her playfully.

"Oh you're such a hypocrite! You ran away first. And it just took you this long to get enough balls to come back."

"Dean Winchester does not run," he retorted, offended. "And there's nothing to be afraid of from you, of all people."

"Really? Even though I'm carrying thirteen knives on me? Sure you aren't just afraid of the number thirteen or something then, since I'm not worthy enough to be afraid of."

"Well that's a ridiculous fear."

"It's just a superstitious one and you have to admit some of them are rather fair."

"No, not at all." He looked at her dryly, "I mean come on. Step on a crack and break your mother's back? Break a mirror and have seven years bad luck? I don't believe it."

"But that doesn't always change anything does it?"

Dean just shrugged. And then a playful smile lit up his face and his hands glided up her sides as he tickled her. Andrea squealed suddenly in laughter and wiggled her way off his lap and onto the floor. She glared at him, not really angry.

"That was so not fair."

"I don't believe I ever said I was playing, fair or not," he smirked.

She got back up and strode over to him, sitting on his lap, making sure his hands were trapped at his sides. He didn't really put up a fight and she kissed him softly, happily. Andie, at least, felt almost inexplicably drawn to him. She wasn't sure how he felt, but she suspected it wasn't like this. And even though she knew she would have to kill him at some time, she had this moment, this time, and this tenderness to remember him by.

They both pulled back when the door was audibly opened. It was full-on slammed into the wall as though either of them had a jealous lover who'd just discovered Andrea and Dean in their "affair" (if it could even be called that at this point). But it was only Marissa standing there. Which was odd in itself. She was the type of person to quietly open the door just so she wouldn't disturb anyone else. Sam was nowhere in sight and the two of them weren't due back for a few more hours from their training.

"What happened?" Dean had already moved Andie off her lap and gotten to his feet, hurrying towards Marissa. "Where's Sammy? Is he alright?"

He didn't quite make it halfway across the room before the small girl raised her arm and with a demented smile, twisted her hand and Dean dropped like a brick to the floor. And didn't get back up. He didn't fight. His body was completely still, but not unmoving. Andrea was relieved to see that there was the steady rise and fall of his chest.

"Sammy is perfectly fine," Marissa chimed, turning her head slightly as though inspecting Andrea for the first time. "You know, I have never actually approved of your dream right? It's insane. And you'll take my knight in shining armor from me Andie. And I don't like that. I'm sure Deanie wouldn't either, if he was aware of it. Of your plan." She laughed suddenly, a hollow, fake sound that echoed in the room. "But then again, he'd have to actually look past you first wouldn't he? That would be quite a feat for anyone to accomplish."

"M-Marissa what are you talking about? What did you do to him?"

"Nothing he won't recover from Andie. Now be a good girl, because trust me, it's less painful when you do."

"Marissa what the hell is going on?"

"That's unimportant right now Andie," she smiled innocently and walked towards her. "Hold your hand towards me, with a knife in it." She nodded serenely to herself.

She tried to fight it. Tried to fight that compelling power her friend seemed to have and she wondered fretfully if she'd been deceived this whole time. She might have stood a chance, but Marissa repeated herself and moved as though she was going to harm Dean and rather than let that happen, Andrea just did as she wanted. She stared at her once-friend, confused and hoping there was a better explanation for all of this. Some rational one that she would stand a chance to understand. Because this wasn't the Marissa she knew.

Marissa smirked uncharacteristically as she took the blade and sliced it across Andrea's forearm. And suddenly the world seemed to be falling away, sort of to the side –

XV

Sam shifted, and Marissa's blow fell short. She saw what he was going to do next and was already blocking as his fist flew towards her. He was being very gentle for her sake, but she was trying her hardest to land a blow on him. Despite knowing what he was going to do, being able to see it entirely, the best she'd been able to do had been clipping his shoulder with her fist. His training was impressive, and Marissa was learning that her visions were not all-powerful. They couldn't help her with everything. But in this case, they were most definitely an advantage. Sam hadn't landed a blow against her either.

Marissa tiredly flicked her hair out of her face and he attacked. She dodged quickly; following what her visions showed would work the best. He turned towards her, ready to punch and she ducked down, her small fist landing against his stomach in what she thought was a rather pitiful swing lacking force. At Sam's lack of response, she figured that he probably hadn't even felt it. And then she was ducking out and away from him, and he was laughing.

"Okay, we'll need to work on you developing some muscle Marissa. Push-ups ought to do it rather nicely, probably fifteen to twenty a day for now. We'll go from there once you're stronger."

Marissa blushed shyly and smiled slightly. "Okay."

"And it might be a good idea if you go for a run at least twice a day if we can fit it in. I run at least once a week."

"Why?" she asked, in awe. "You're like-like a… a warrior already." And he was. He was so strong and fast and it was like he could read what she was doing effortlessly.

He chuckled, "To keep in shape? Dean used to do the same stuff when he was younger; Dad made sure we were always in the best of shape and even when I went to Stanford I did some of the basics. And aside from all of that, it's a healthy way to live. Because this won't be your life Marissa, you know that don't you? Being a hunter?"

"I don't want to be one," she retorted. "I'm not cut out for it. But right now, I can help you guys, you can't make me leave. Please."

"I wouldn't make you leave," he said hesitantly, fumbling a bit over his words.

"Thank you…" she smiled shyly. "We should, uh, head back shouldn't we?"

"In a minute, they won't be expecting us yet. I want to see you break a hold again, alright? You weren't very good at it, and it's something that for someone of your size will be incredibly useful to learn."

"O-okay." She smiled warmly and approached him again.

They'd started what felt like hours ago, with Sam's assessment of how much she knew and how good she was at it. She wasn't the best, but she knew how to throw a punch and get a good kick in and take advantage of openings that were flaunted before her. But, Sam was shocked to realize, she didn't know how to free herself from a hold. For a woman, it was extremely important that she know how to defend herself and especially how to break free from a hold. In his opinion, all women should know how to free themselves from a hold, because a lot of terrible things could be prevented that way. Not always, but sometimes it was better that they know, especially if a man was being particularly pushy or something.

Sam effortlessly grabbed her, holding her against him lightly, waiting to see if she still remembered what he'd told her earlier. Marissa had been doing very well so far, considering that she still had a lot of work to go through. It took her a few moments seemingly before she remembered how to get free. With a sharp turn to both sides and then throwing her weight elsewhere unexpectedly, she was able to slip out of his grasp. It was partly because of their size differences; with someone as tall as him, unless he had a bruising grip on her and was really trying, she would be able to slip away. Someone closer to her own height though and it would be an almost entirely different method to get free.

Marissa grinned proudly at him and he couldn't help but smile back. Sam's phone went off suddenly and he answered it.

XV

Dean had spent some time actually searching to find some information on Marissa. He'd called Sam twenty minutes earlier to make sure that he was still alright and he'd said he was perfectly fine but was concerned over Dean's behavior for some reason or another. He didn't stay on the phone to listen before searching what he could on Marissa Faith.

He hadn't really expected it to be her real name and he was shocked when he had learned that it really was. Her family was deceased and she had no one who could look after her. Her brother, Richard Holloway, known by friends as Dick Holloway, had died in a car crash here in town not long ago. And he was one of the walking dead. Shortly after he was buried, his grave was empty. Apparently he wasn't Marissa's full brother, but her half-brother from a brief fling her father had had some years prior. It was the only logical conclusion to be drawn. And about the same time that they'd left Marissa behind to get here and then she had just shown up mysteriously and said something about her brother. So evidently she hadn't known anything about his death.

Or she had. And she was just playing them all. It didn't seem like she was the kind of girl to do that. He'd kept her age a secret, hadn't reported her to social services like he should have. He wanted some answers from the girl first. If he hadn't seen her break into their hotel room and cast a spell on him, he might have been a little bit more willing to give her a chance. But she had, and he didn't trust her.

Andrea was missing. She'd been gone since he woke up from wherever Marissa had sent him. He'd searched through their rooms inch by inch, trying to find a hex bag or whatever she'd used to bewitch him. There was no way that she was a pagan god of some sort. He refused to believe she had that sort of power, because if she had, then she certainly wouldn't have let herself get cut up like earlier and Cas would have said something.

He pulled his keys out, locked the door and ran out to the Impala. He had some questions and she was going to answer them.

XV

Marissa collapsed on the grassy ground, her arms unable to support her after she struggled and struggled through those fifteen push-ups. It was pure agony. Sam had watched her, encouraged her and was probably the only reason why she'd managed to complete them all.

However, the loud roar of the Impala cut things short. Sam got to his feet, looking over as Dean strode over. Marissa stood up, grateful that the movement hadn't really required her to use her aching arms. She froze just as Dean drew a knife and held it towards her threateningly. Sam tried to stop him but Dean waved him off and Sam looked between the two of them warily, but he kept at Dean's side.

It didn't hurt as much as she'd thought it would. Sam siding with Dean. But that was a given, really, because they were brothers and they had to trust one another with their lives. She hadn't been around long enough or anything. And not that she knew what was going on, but she wished she did.

"Who really kidnapped you Marissa?" Dean spat.

"My brother," she said, looking at him, confused. "I already told-"

"He's dead! It _couldn't_ have been him."

"But it was! It was! I know my brother, and that was definitely him! I don't know if it was his soul or not, but I'm telling you it was him!"

Dean advanced with the knife warily. "What do you mean?" Sam set his hand on Dean's shoulder, glancing back at Marissa worriedly. Dean rolled his eyes and shrugged Sam's hand away.

"He was soulless when alive, how would I know the difference when he's dead? He might as well be the same! What's this all about Dean?" A glance around told her exactly what it was. She froze suddenly, eyes wide. "Dean… Dean where's Andrea?"

"You kidnapped her."

"What? How could I have done that? I've been here with Sam the entire time."

Dean tossed the knife at her feet. "Cut yourself Marissa. Prove it's you."

Marissa bent down and lifted the knife, hesitating a moment before she cut her palm open and held it out for them to see. Tears beaded in her eyes. "I would never do anything like that… It wasn't me…"

"I'm sorry. I didn't think it was you, but you have to admit it's weird that your un-dead-dead brother came back to life and kidnaps you for no apparent reason and then your clone comes around and kidnaps Andrea. That's a lot of kidnapping you've got following you."

"I-I don't know why. I'm so sorry Dean…" she hung her head, looking at her feet.

Sam walked over with the first aid kit he'd gotten out of the Impala. Their bags were all packed and ready to go. He carefully wrapped the wound and taped it, handing the knife back to Dean. Marissa smiled weakly and got into the back of the Impala, cuddled up to the back door, praying they could find Andrea before it was too late. She wished that she could see again.

"What happened?"

"I don't know. It wasn't a skinwalker like we've seen before. This one knocked me out cold, just waved its hand and I was out like a log. When I came to, barely five minutes later, Andrea was just gone and so was the 'walker. I don't know what happened."

"That's pretty bizarre. Even for us. You fell asleep?" A teasing smirk edged its way on Sam's face.

"Bitch," he retorted and got into the driver's seat.

"Jerk," came the casually flung response as Sam got into the passenger's seat.

* * *

_Thank you to my beta for pointing out how rushed it seemed that Dean and Andrea were making out; if I ever re-edit this I will add the scene of their angry kissing. And that just sounds weird._

_Thank you so much for your reviews! :D_

_Please let me know what you think, and if you have any expectations on what's going to happen._

_Have a wonderful day!_


	16. The Lame, Boring Villain Monologues

The Lame, Boring Villain Monologues

They searched, for day and days, but it was simply as though Andrea had dropped off the face of the planet, and apparently so had Castiel. They'd tried to call him for help but he wouldn't do anything for them. He was too busy with trying to track down how the dead were being raised and keeping an eye on the breaking seals to help them. Dean was frustrated and angry. As a matter of fact, they all were. Dean's mood could have been called infectious, but none of them had the heart to be worry free or optimistic.

Marissa would have done anything to have her visions back at that moment, just to see Andie and know that she was alright. The sudden disappearance of her visions was not soothing either, they had been apart of her for so long, that now even though she only saw Sam, she wished she could see more. This time, there was no relief to see how her friend was doing. There was just a sunken, hollow feeling of guilt, fear and wonder. Wondering if her best friend was alright… would be alright… She tried to hope that Andrea was alright but she was afraid that whoever had her was the same thing that had captured her.

Sam had mentioned it first, the fact of the writing on the wall in her blood. Traitor's soul. He only thought that it was a reference to some big secret in Andrea's past and Dean was temporarily agreeing with him, but Marissa knew the truth. The truth of what she would do, what she had done. What she had done was certainly enough to classify her as a traitor and even for what she was planning on doing too.

Andrea had been neglected as a child after her mother died. Her father never had time for her. She was fed and clothed but he wouldn't have anything to do with her. He was mortal, as was her mother, her birth parents of course. But her foster parents, the demons were entirely different. They'd saved her. And doused the house, with Andie's still living father inside, in gasoline. Andrea, at just six years of age, had taken the match from them and lit it herself before tossing it in.

She was vindictive. She held grudges and hatreds close to her heart, but she couldn't help it. Marissa suspected that deep down; Andrea didn't know anything aside from a bundle of bitter, worn memories and a dream of not feeling it anymore. A dream where the guilt wouldn't eat at her, where she could take glee from it and do something to make her demon parents proud of her, like never before.

Her parents had suffered at the butt of jokes for so long because of Andrea, that she had to feel guilt for it. They had saved her, given her another life to live, and because of that they were made to suffer. Marissa wasn't sure if that was the entire case, but from what Andie had said and hadn't said in pauses here and there, that was the story she was beginning to put together. Beyond it, the pieces just weren't quite in place yet,

Marissa didn't know if it was all God's plan, because from what she'd seen so far, Andrea _was _going to kill Dean. And there was nothing for Marissa to do, to really stop them. The angels wouldn't let her.

She closed her eyes, exhaling tightly. She sort of wished she could pick the friends she made, have a little choice about what happened to her. But aside from winning Sam over, she wasn't sure what else she would ever do with herself, her life.

She'd never really thought about it. When she was a little girl she'd wanted to be a ballerina, one of those girly dreams that she had grown out of. Now, when others her age were making decisions about what they'd do after high school, she was left behind, left lost and alone

There was no trace of Andrea. And they had no idea what they were chasing. While driving Sam had been researching nearby areas for anything suspicious. But there was nothing. And there was nothing to lead them to believe that it was a skin walker. And that'd been their best assumption so far. Without it, they were just wasting gas, wandering around nowhere.

XVI

Andrea woke up tied to a stake. Her wrists were tied behind her back to the wooden thing at a painful angle and from the lack of feeling in her arms; she was guessing she'd been tied to it for quite some time. And perhaps, most disturbing yet, was the fact that she was wearing completely different clothes. A dress, perhaps once white, now splashed with rusty-red was on her. Not something she would ever have chosen for herself.

She was outside, in the middle of nowhere. The stake was one of three, deeply buried in the ground and of all things, there was a giant cauldron in front of her. No fire was going under it, but there was straw and other bits of dried goods she didn't want to think about that were ready to be lit. There were some peculiar engravings along the blackened pot, precise and specific to something she couldn't read.

It wasn't all that cold, surprising for this time of year. She glanced around quickly, hoping that something would stick out and announce itself to proclaim where she was. But there was no signs, nothing to say where she was. Aside from the expanse of grass and a decrepit shack to the west, there was nothing. She was completely and utterly alone. And she didn't like it. Some company would save her sanity, or at least whatever was left of it. She could also hatch an escape plan with someone else. As it was, the ropes were too tight for her to try anything.

The door of the shack swung open, the hinges creaking obscenely in the silence. A gentle breeze, carrying the scent of cow manure and the crow of a rooster, blew by. A young man walked out, blond hair brushed back like some lame-ass villain from a lame comic. He had high cheekbones, and a tanned complexion. His walk was odd itself, back straight and head held high. Everything about him screamed danger. It was almost too obvious. His oceanic eyes surveyed the area as he stopped just before her. Far enough away that she could do nothing to reach him. He tilted his head to the side and something about him seemed familiar. But she wasn't able to place when or where she'd seen him.

"Ah, hello, nice to see you up and about darling."

"What are you? Some freakazoid pervert? Enjoying dressing up girls you son of a-!"

"Shut up." He said it very quietly, very monotonically, and all of a sudden, she couldn't speak. "You, my dear, you are what I need. I got the little psychic's blood, and I'll have Heaven and Hell's warriors soon. Just need their presences. You, you though, I need your body."

He chuckled mirthlessly, the corners of his lips turning up in a grotesque mockery of a smile. "You're a lot like he is, the Lord of the Underworld. Hades himself. Loyal to your own causes, for yourself and no one else. You'll do as you want whatever the costs for that goal. You want something no one else wants, a plague upon your soul and a rot on your body.

"My friend, he doesn't need a vessel but he does need a sacrifice. And the best one to offer is the one with the blackest soul of all. Who knew Andrea, that you were such a little sinner when all's said and done?"

"I've done nothing!" she cried, squirming desperately against her bonds. She wasn't quite sure when the ability to talk had been returned to her, but she wasn't going to question it either. He was too infuriating. His words made her skin crawl and she just wanted _him _to stop talking.

"Ah, ah, ah. Letting yourself fall for Dean Winchester, just to kill him? That isn't just nothing Andie. Using Marissa so that the Winchesters would trust you? Letting that demon-witch control Sam, leaving your _best friend_ to suffer because of it? Sure, she knows, but it's not as though you care. You just want what you want, screw everybody else."

"My dreams are as important as anyone else's! You can't say they-"

"Oh but Andie, other people's dreams are just _normal._ To be skinny, to be pretty, to live life normally, to have a family, to get married, to get rich, to get even, to get better… Regular, my dear. Not demonic. You'll kill people, you'll see tortured souls, inflict pain, live for centuries the same… The same… A vicious monster. Well who would _ever_ dream of that?"

"I do! And what does it matter what they want! I'm important too! I can do what I want, throw my soul away, kill people! That _is_ what I want."

"Why?"

The question was one she had pondered over before. One good thing about it all was that the answer therefore came to her lips without conscious thought to dreg it through the black, charred memories that made her into who she was: "Because I owe it to them. Because I promised them. And above all, because it is what I want. Why? Why wouldn't I? I can accumulate wealth, power, glory and whatever else I fucking want. I never said I was a good person, sure, I pretend it, but that's it! I want to be a demon. And hell, if I have to kill the man of my fucking dreams, then I'll goddamned well do it. And how the fuck do you even know what I want, what I would do or wouldn't do?"

He paused, appraising her curiously. Andrea breathed heavily, some strands of her dark hair dangling down her cheeks. She blew at them in annoyance and managed to get them out of her way. He walked over to her, long purposeful strides and cupped her face in his hands.

"You are twisted. I doubt you'll even have to stick the knife in to kill him. Black hearted traitor indeed. You'll do fine my dear, perfectly fine." He caressed her cheek, with some creepy tender affection in his eyes. Andrea didn't hesitate, snapping as she tried to bite his hand. If she thought she could have, she would've tried to bite it off. But she missed, and he didn't seem to care too much, just keeping his hand out of her reach.

He just chuckled. "You my dear will do wonders to get the gate open."

"How the fuck do you know all this, decide what I'm going to do or not do?" she growled angrily. She was determined to get an answer to her question.

"You know… Everyone dreams. Ever wonder why?"

"Part of the sleep cycle," she sneered angrily. "The R.E.M phase, right?" Or at least around there, something like that. Psychology had been enlightening, but it was a long time ago now.

"Hahaha, college dropout, you fail to have a sense of humor," he rolled his eyes in disgust, stepping back from her. "Yes, _scien-fucking-tifically._ But humans need to dream or their brains will overload. And there are creatures out there, like me that _feed_ on them. I am the strongest, most connected to dreams. I feed off of them Andrea. I can access your mind whenever you're asleep; see your hopes and dreams… Watch them wither and die."

"I want Hades back; I want the gates open because your pitiful imaginations are dying. And in turn, so am I. I won't stand for it. I will not die in this Hell. Your minds are nothing compared to what they can be, what true terrors walked the Earth and when gods so frightening ruled this place, it kept them on their toes. So there you go, that's why I know. That's why I want the gate opened. To let monsters more horrifying than you can imagine free, so that I can stay strong."

Andrea was quiet for a few moments longer before she looked up at him. "What a great dream," she sneered sarcastically. "You sit here and take mine apart while you want to destroy people."

"Ah, I'm a god! Who would ever care?" He burst out into laughter.

"And you have the lamest, most boring monologues _ever_," she retorted.

He stopped suddenly, his face a composed mask and he reached out and slapped her. She felt his hand against her cheek and milliseconds later the pain came, raw and stinging, burning up her left cheek angrily. He smirked sardonically, turned on his heel and then paused, looking over his shoulder at her.

"And you'll be the only one to know it. This is where you die, Andrea Clemency. May mercy not fall to your feet; let your soul rot and dream. Sweet dreams of death and pain, my dear. Farewell."

* * *

_Next chapter will be a flashback about Andrea's past and how she became as twisted as she seems to be. _

_I'm so sorry for the delay in posting this, I've had it ready for almost a week but my beta was busy and it took her awhile to get around to editing. Thanks to her lovely job, you can see where Andrea is and you don't have to worry about creepy psycho-stalkers randomly appearing from nowhere._

_Thank you for all the lovely reviews, have a great weekend!_


	17. Flashbacks

Flashbacks of Youth

Andrea, age four.

It was a Sunday, just another calm sunny church day. Early morning, before nine as usual. She'd always been the early bird in the household. Andrea stood on the chair, her little hands gripping the arch as she watched her mother flip the pancakes. It was magical, getting to see things go from just a pile of yuck into something so yummy. She'd tried the batter once, when her mother hadn't been quite so attentive and boy, it sure tasted awful! Her mother only ever made them on church days –which as far as Andrea was concerned, was absolutely silly. They should have pancakes _every_ day. But Sundays were her favorite day of the week and not just because of the pancakes.

Andrea looked back at her father excitedly, knowing the pancakes were almost done by their golden-brown color. He took a sip from his coffee, he had always insisted that it was necessary to have a good cup in the morning as it helped wake him up and put him in the right mood for the rest of the day. The newspaper was spread out before him, pencil waving in the air as he stared at the crossword intently. With a quiet "ah" he scribbled in a word.

Andrea, age four. Six months later.

Something strange was going on, and no one would tell her anything. She didn't understand it. Mother was pale all the time and she didn't go anywhere without someone going with her. Grandma and Grandpa had even come over and they hardly ever stayed. Usually it was just a quick little visit, if at all but lately they'd been staying longer. And last night they'd even stayed the whole night. Mother sometimes coughed up this blood that should've been inside her, and father always got real worried then and he shooed her out of the room. She didn't understand...

Suddenly, there were no more church day pancakes. Father hardly even looked at her; he was carrying buckets of water into mother's room. She could hear an awful lot of coughing. Andrea tiptoed after him as he hurried into the bedroom. There was still just a crack open, and she pushed the door open just a teeny tiny bit more so she could peek inside.

Her mother was laying on her side, taking raspy breaths, a sheen of sweat on her pale face. When had it gotten so pale...? Her hand was clutching the sheets that were spread over her, her eyelids fluttering shut.

Father pulled out the wet cloth and wiped away the sweat on her forehead, dabbing along her face worriedly. "Sweetheart," he murmured his voice suddenly tight.

"Baby, I'll-I'll be alright. Just a little cold, that's all..." she coughed tiredly, smiling wanly at her husband.

"The doctor's-"

"Since when have they ever been right, ha?" she shifted, trying to move her hair out of the way. He took pity on her and tenderly brushed her dark hair back from her face.

"It's just a cold, I swear."

"I know..." he held her hand in his.

"So, everything will be alright... You understand?"

"Yes love..."

"And tell Andrea... I'm alright... I'll be f-fine," her words were suddenly cut off as she burst out coughing.

Father pulled her up so she was in a sitting position as she coughed harder and harder, gasping for air between each exhalation despite how exhausted she had to be. More of the viscous fluid was coughed out; it stood out clearly against the white bed sheets. Father dragged the cloth over her lips, the red stuff disappearing. Mother panted softly, and father laid her back against the pillows.

"Mama?" she asked worriedly, opening the door wider, about to step inside.

"Andrea no!" father snapped, looking at her sternly. "You know better."

"Mama?" Andrea asked again, tears beading in her eyes. Her mother wouldn't even look at her. "Mama, are you alright?" she tried to enter the room, to get to her mother.

Her father was there in the next instant, he grabbed her arm roughly and hauled her out of the room, giving her a little shove that sent her stumbling backwards. He shut the door firmly and locked it behind him for the first time. Andrea started bawling. He'd never done that before. Was Mama gonna be alright? What was wrong with her? Why was she coughing up blood? Something had to be really wrong…

Andrea, age four and three quarters. Two months later.

She hated the itchy black dress. It was like there were little barbs sticking into her skin, pricking it at every opportunity and pulling it. Andrea shifted, rubbing at her arms and then her legs, trying to get the sensation to go away. She hated this stupid dress. Her father reached over, grabbing her hand suddenly and putting it at her side without ever looking at her. She continued to itch, however she did try to do it so that he wouldn't notice.

She glanced up at him, his eyes staring ahead at the little bald man who was talking. Andrea looked back over at her leg, and bit her lower lip, trying to not itch it. As the man kept on talking however, she reached over and scratched it. Her father struck then, grabbing her other arm by her wrist and holding both her wrists in one hand, effectively stopping her.

He turned to her, frowning disapprovingly. "Stop it," he hissed, his lips barely moving before he looked away again.

He sniffled a little, and Andrea looked back to the funny little man. He was standing beside the box and talking about mother, how good of a woman she was, had been, and how God would stretch his hand down to her and save her from damnation. Her life was lived in sin, but as she got older how she had managed to save herself when she got married to a good, righteous man. At that, the little man turned to father and nodded, smiling thinly, a smile that never reached his eyes.

Andrea sniffled herself, worried. Mama was in hell? And she had to wait for the man in the sky to take her to heaven? Even though it was that very man that took her away? That was what Grandma had said. That God wanted Mama back, and so he took her. But... But if she was in hell, then she was suffering... How could Mama be there? She was... She was Mama. Mama didn't belong there. She shouldn't have to wait from some skyman to come along and save her!

"Now, I ask that we all bow our heads and pray... Pray for Mercia Clemency to receive the Lord's salvation, that he may save her from perdition." The little bald man slowly bowed his head forward and everyone around did too. Even father.

"B-but-"

Her father turned to her, a sharp warning clear in his eyes and he set his hand on the back of her head and shoved it downwards, her chin bumping against her chest. There was no way... Mama wouldn't be there... This man was a liar. A liar! Mama would never go to a place like that! That was a bad place, a place where bad people went and mother was _not_ a bad person.

"Thank you, good believers. We may-"

"You're a liar!" Andrea shouted the minute her father's hand left the back of her head.

"Excuse me?" the little man looked over at her, disbelievingly.

"You're a liar! Mama's not a sinner! She's a good person, she wouldn't go to hell." She looked challengingly at the man.

The man snorted, and father glared at her. "Shut up Andrea," he hissed, pulling her back down onto the pew. "Sorry, Father, my daughter... She's still grieving, she doesn't understand."

"Well of course not. I suggest Robert that you get your daughter under control; she has your wife's attitude. I know, if anyone can tame that spirit it will be you," again the little man smiled, and it never reached his eyes

"Of course Father, thank you."

Andrea, age five.

What was a hug like? Andrea couldn't remember. She remembered her mother vaguely, a-a kind person who smelled like flowers all the time. She used to hug Andrea all the time. There was some impression of warmth and love... But what was it like?

Andrea spent all her time locked up in her bedroom, no games to play, nothing to do. She had a bed to sleep in. She had a few baby toys, and things. She loved the dolly that her grandmother had given her on her last birthday. She wore the most gorgeous dress of all, and Andrea sometimes even wished… That she could wear a dress just like it. A true princess dress.

There was never anything interesting to do, except of course for when her father was home. She heard the door close and knew that he was home. She'd been waiting all day, ever since she'd seen the tape sitting around and now her chance had arrived. She ran downstairs, practically taking two at a time, never once tripping or falling and she met her father just as he was taking his shoes off.

"Papa!" she cried, running to him excitedly.

He didn't say anything

."Papa, papa I found a video, can I watch it?"

Again, he said nothing.

"Papa?"

He walked past her, briefcase tucked under his arm as he headed into the kitchen.

Andrea followed him determinedly, her stomach growling hungrily.

"Papa, I'm hungry."

He sat down at the table, opened his briefcase and started to pull out his papers.

"Papa, I'm bored."

He grabbed his pen and started to do whatever it was that he always did at this time. Red scribbles here and some blue ones there... Andrea watched him briefly hoping that soon he would be done. Sometimes when he finished early, he would make mac and cheese. It was her favorite and she was hoping that that would be tonight's dinner.

"Papa, can we have some mac and cheese for dinner tonight? Please, please, please?"

He slammed his pen down onto the table and glared at her. "I'm trying to work! Fuck off!"

Andrea flinched back and looked at him tearfully. "Papa..." she hiccoughed, tears rolling down her cheeks.

"I'm not your fucking father you little chit, now fuck off! I'm working!" he gave her a shove that sent her stumbling into the counter and then went back to his scribbling.

Andrea burst into sobs, loud and inconsolable sobbing and she took off upstairs, into her bedroom and threw herself on her bed, yanking the covers over her head as she cried. Harder and harder, the sobs wracked her small frame, sending painful shudders through her as she gasped and hiccoughed for breath. There was nothing she could do... She wasn't wanted by anyone. Who even cared about her?

When father came home from work, he would just ignore her and only made supper because he had to eat too. Andrea ate cereal every morning for breakfast because she could do it herself. And he didn't care, never asked her anything... Never spoke to her. And once a month the Father Seymour came by and talked to her about sinning and how being a willful disobedient child would mean she would get sent to hell. She wasn't supposed to pester her father or ask him for anything, because the demons would come for her then and they would take her to where her mommy was.

Her mommy was a bad, bad woman. Very evil. She wasn't faithful to her husband despite that she had sworn vows before God to be an honest, loving wife. And this would mean that Andrea too possessed that spirit, a spirit she couldn't allow to grow...

Andrea, age five. One week later.

Father Seymour had come over for his usual monthly visit, he was sitting in the living room waiting for Andrea to come downstairs.

Andrea was upstairs, staring at the clothes that were laid out on her bed for her. She knew that if she were going to see Father Seymour that she most certainly should wear a skirt or even a dress. But she didn't exactly want to; simply because she knew that whatever she did she would have done something wrong. So, rather than do what he wanted, because it wouldn't make a difference in the first place, she pulled on jeans. And a t-shirt. And then, she went downstairs.

Her father was off at work anyways so it wouldn't really matter, at least initially because he wouldn't be home for a little while. And that was okay with her. If it didn't matter what she did to get his attention and she was still in trouble, she might as well do something to earn his trouble.

Oh, and about school, the place that she might have stood a chance to escape her father at, well, she didn't attend. She wasn't smart enough her father had said. He just pretended that he was a good daddy who was home schooling his daughter. Andrea sat flopped onto the couch opposite Father Seymour. He frowned at her disapprovingly and a haughty little smirk made its way across her face.

"Andrea, you know better. Go change."

"Why Father?" she asked, her voice light. She didn't really care and he knew that. He also knew that she knew why she wasn't supposed to wear pants. "I can wear whatever I want when father's at home."

"I am your priest Andrea. And a young lady such as yourself ought to be shamed to wear pants -you are a woman Andrea. Men wear pants, and it is unseemly for a young girl like yourself to wear such a garment."

"Well I'm not changing!" she said primly.

Father Seymour was quiet for a moment. "Are you sure of that Andrea? You want to be a willful disobedient child that the demons come for? You'll go to hell like your mother."

"Better than here with you!" she shrieked, jumping to her feet. As she said that the door swung shut and she whirled to look over at her father. He was standing in the doorway, a glare on his features as he looked at her. Andrea didn't look away. What reason did she have to? He wasn't her father, he'd said so. She didn't have to do anything for him, she didn't have to listen, and there was absolutely no reason for it.

"Andrea! How dare you speak so to Father Seymour after all he's done for us-!"

"He's the one that sent Mother to death! He sent her to hell! I hate you both! Monsters!" she shrieked, stomping her foot.

"Andrea! Stop this nonsense at once!" Her supposed father rushed over to her and grabbed her by her arm, yanking her against him, about to smack her.

Suddenly the front door slammed open with such force that she could hear the drywall crack. The movement of her supposed father's hand did not stop, despite the fact that his attention as well as Father Seymour's was on whoever had entered the house. The stinging clout smashed into the side of her face and she howled in pain, trying to get away. Her father tightened his grip on her arm, his fingers digging in and cutting the circulation off. She cried out in pain, trying to get free just as the visitors entered the living room.

It was a man and a woman, both younger than her supposed father and the priest. The woman had a full head of red hair, lazily tied back with a scrunchy, her sharp green eyes surveying the room. The man beside her was clean cut and shaven, and he looked rather bored.

"Well lookie here Celeste, it's a priest!"

"Oh my, Father Seymour is it?" she inquired, smirking as she looked around the room. "Kind of a dingy place you got goin' on here..."

"Get the fuck out!" her father snarled, moving to stand in front of Andrea. Almost as though he cared about her. Ha! As if.

"Oh? Did you say something human?" the man sneered, rolling his head to look at her father."W-what? H-how do you know me?" Father Seymour started.

The woman approached him, eyes intent, she shoved her hand towards him and sent him flying back into the brick fireplace. Unfortunately it was not lit, and although his pained cry was somewhat satisfying it wasn't enough.

"What demon wouldn't know such a corrupt mongrel like you? Mmm, you'll be tasty. Boss'll be happy to get you. He loves you sick bastards who think you're doing God's work when really... You're just doing the Devil a favor," she laughed humorlessly.

Father Seymour's eyes opened wide and suddenly, with a loud crack the mantelpiece broke off and hit him on the head. He didn't say anything after that, just... Fell to the ground, blood leaking everywhere as the rock shifted, sliding a bit, concealing his lifeless face. The woman turned to look at Andrea's supposed father as the child whimpered in pain, trying to shake his grip off her arm so that she could be ready to run. But he wouldn't let go.

"And you, my what to call you... a tasty snack?" The woman leered at Andrea, baring her teeth.

"Take her!" her father shouted suddenly, shoving Andrea towards the woman. "Take her and spare me, please!"

Andrea shrieked as the woman went to grab her, terrified. Her father wouldn't let her go back to him however; he simply gave her a shove towards the woman. Celeste grabbed her, pulling her close. Andrea sniffled, and looked up at the woman, scared. She tried to be brave and not show it and refused to look away. It was like with Father Seymour, she couldn't let him see how she was feeling or else it was all so much worse.

Celeste smirked. "Now my dear... Your very own flesh and blood just gave you up. How does that make you feel?"

"Angry," she whispered before she could stop herself.

The man protested, "Celeste no -we can't. She won't be a-"

"It doesn't matter. We were told to get rid of the witnesses, and we are," she brushed Andrea's hair back and tutted sympathetically. "He doesn't even brush your hair, does he? Does he feed you?"

Andrea shook her head mutely, terrified to speak, avoiding looking at either the woman or her father. She had the feeling that he was angry, absolutely furious with her.

"You shouldn't be angry with your daughter, you silly man. You should be angry at yourself, because you've done this." Celeste tilted Andrea's head up and forced her to look at her father. "He's hit you, he's ignored you and he never told you the truth... The truth that his wife, your beloved mother, sold her soul to a demon... For change. You poor girl, and you don't even know that he's the cause of it." Andrea looked at her father, eyes wide, heart beating fast. "You hate him."

"I do," she whispered softly.

"You want to see him gone? So that he'll never do anything to you again?"

Andrea whimpered fearfully and nodded.

"You don't have to be afraid sweetheart. I'll keep you safe, I'll teach you how to stop the bad men from doing things... You won't ever have to worry again, okay?"

"Okay," she squeaked.

"Now, there's one thing I need you to do for me, alright?"

"A-anything."

"Kill him."

Andrea jerked and looked at Celeste in shock. "You heard me. Kill him. Kill that beast of a man there."

Her supposed father attempted to run, but the man was faster, and he restrained him, held him back, a lazy smirk on his face. Her father cried something, begged a few times. Andrea didn't hear him. She took the knife Celeste gave her and walked towards him. She sliced his stomach open and watched him die.

There was a perverse satisfaction and a longing that filled her as his form slipped out of the demon's grip and his knees crashed against the floor, for once eye level and equal to Andrea. She had found a way to take her power back. She smirked at him, her gaze never leaving his.

He would never be able to hurt her again. She would be able to play with her dolls whenever and however she wanted to. He could never stop her again. He could never try to sell her off to a priest or anyone else. He could never do anything to her again.

"Well what a blood thirsty thing you are." Celeste chuckled softly, ruffling her hair tenderly.

"My, she's after our very own hearts," he remarked, glancing down at her.

Andrea hesitantly looked between the two of them, uncertain.

"We won't be like that man, I promise you that."

Andrea, age eleven.

She went to school now, a peculiar dreamlike place. The children were little monsters and brats. They had absolutely no self-control whatsoever. They were loathsome little humans.

Humans like that man. She wondered which of these things was going to grow up to be just like him? And they would cause pain and suffering untold. Unless someone hurt them first. Hurt them so badly that they could never hurt anyone else ever again.

She smirked and wandered over to the cluster of twittering girls who thought she was their friend. She idly wondered what it would be like to slide a knife into their soft flesh and watch the light leave their eyes.

Humans were disgusting.

Andrea, age fourteen.

She spent her time in school dating. And learning. It wasn't necessarily the curriculum that she was learning however, as at home her parents were training her to become a killer.

Her first boyfriend suffered an unfortunate accident. He drowned.

And something strange happened, as all the spiteful humans gathered around her and hugged her. Like it was supposed to provide comfort? Like she needed to be comforted? What did it matter? He was just a pig.

Her best friend died after that. She got trapped in a fire. And mysteriously after that, Andrea transferred to another school. She never used the same alias twice. She knew better than that. And she got better at covering up the deaths. However, there was just something about fire that transfixed her. It was her favorite way to kill and to cover up the evidence. She knew just how to get a fire burning so hot that no remains were left identifiable.

Her following boyfriends suffered from that fate.

She volunteered at a crematorium for a while, and worked at the graveyard for a summer. Nothing odd about being a good citizen.

She pushed her hate and prejudices against humans back. One day she was going to have to act just like them. And at least, on the surface, it was going to be necessary to appear as though she could get along with them. As though she thought she was one of them. As though she were just some regular girl.

She couldn't wait for the day to come when she was a demon. That was her dream. And with her parents help, she worked diligently towards it.

Neither of the demons ever hurt Andrea and they taught her how to protect herself. So when she was at school and a jerk boy was picking on her, she knocked him out cold. And when she got home, her parents had never been prouder. But Andrea knew there were things out there in the world that as a human she could never stop. Ever. And she wanted to be able to; she wanted the strength that her foster parents had.

Over the years, the man that had tormented her faded from her memory. She didn't think about the years before she met Celeste. She didn't want to either, but it was still in the back of her mind. She owed Celeste and her husband more than she could ever repay them.

When they first told her of the Winchester brothers, it filled Andrea with loathing. What kind of monsters would go out hunting such good people? She knew some of her parents' friends, but most of them kept away from Andrea. She didn't care that they ridiculed _her_, but when they mocked Celeste and her husband and proclaimed them to be weaklings, she'd had enough.

They had saved Andrea all those years ago from such a monster. The least Andrea could do was save them in return. They'd had years of being ridiculed by other demons, being soft hearted despite that they weren't. Celeste and her husband were terrifyingly strict and Andrea had never wanted to disappoint them. The only thing she wanted to do was please them, was make them proud of her.

When Ruby came by, a longtime friend of Celeste's, and she had a new mission and was requesting help, Andrea eagerly agreed to it. She would stop the hunters and turn them against each other just as Ruby was going to do. And Andrea's reward, from Lilith to her, was going to be that she could become a demon. Something as simple as a little shove and manipulation, and she could become a demon. She could make her parents proud. She could repay them for when they had saved her and she could stop the ridicule they faced. And above all else, _no one_ could stop her ever again.

* * *

_Sorry it's been so long, I had some trouble with this chapter. Actually, I had a whole lot of trouble with this chapter. I finished it back at the end of August and my beta got it back to me and it was in absolutely awful care since I had basically just sent my beta the rough copy of it._

_She hasn't beta'd this part of it, or seen any of it really. Some of it is the same, some of it is vastly different._

_It's been so long that I can't even remember really what my idea regarding the priest and father had been. There was something between them to do with Andrea._

_I decided to go with the cliche evil religion because it made my life easier to portray why Andrea would also be on the side of the demons and how she got there. It is an important part that leads her to join the demons, being forced to believe that her mother was an evil woman and suffering because of it. _

_I hope you like it, and I hope that you can understand Andrea's beliefs and what caused them to arise. _

_(Now I'm going to go reread my story to figure out what was going on, and then I can start a new chapter. Which probably won't be until December... or even later... or never... We'll see...)_

_One last thing; How are you guys all feeling about season seven? This is the first time I've been disappointed in it, actually and I don't like it so much. Last night's episode did inspire me to finish this off and post it however..._


	18. Flickering Faint Hope

Flickering Faint Hope

Their search for Andrea had led them nowhere. There was nothing for them to do, but the Winchesters were stubborn and they refused to give up. They were still searching. Marissa wished she could have their kind of faith; that she didn't give up so easily. She knew Andie was alive, she just wasn't expecting that they were going to find her until whoever or whatever had Andrea wanted them to. She wished she could have fought against it, but she just let it be.

She borrowed Sam's laptop during the car rides and when they were working on cases in the in-between time she went to the library. They didn't ask what she was up to, just where she was going. Sometimes Sam came with her, and even Dean had once. She couldn't tell them what she was looking for; she wouldn't have even been able to explain it. She just knew there was something she was supposed to find. She talked to the librarians, surfed the net for nothing in particular.

Whenever Sam went out for a run, Marissa accompanied him. She was serious about learning how to defend herself. She did push-ups and sit-ups every night, the amount slowly increasing to become more difficult each time she did it.

Weeks passed in that way, days spent reading and nights spent working out. She made friends readily with the librarians effortlessly each time they moved to a new town. And she learned how to look after Sam's computer and make sure that his battery didn't run out. He had been beyond angry when she'd gotten too caught up in some research and the thing had died.

In retaliation it seemed that he worked her even harder through their training. Her blows on him hardly made a difference to him, of that she was quite sure but it didn't stop her from trying. He landed a few blows on her, unlike usual when she could at least manage to avoid him. They weren't serious hits or anything, still gentle and used for learning no matter how angry he was at her. For that she was grateful.

He wasn't like Richard. Richard would have vented on her for her mistakes and his anger, whether she caused the anger or not. But Sam wasn't as gentle as she had imagined he was after all these years. He was a little brusque, but he wasn't mean. Dean was kind; all he ever did was tease her and that was a playful tease at the least. He never meant what he said, because he was only saying it in jest. She liked that about Dean.

It was almost two months after Andrea had gone missing, that she found it. She knew it when she saw it, and she couldn't explain how. Marissa was halfway through the tome before she pulled her cell phone out and dialed Dean's number. She could see that Sam was busy, talking with Ruby, and she didn't want to go anywhere near them.

"What?" He sounded tired.

"I found it, the-the thing that kidnapped Andie!"

"What do you mean?" he demanded gruffly.

"I know what it is!"

"Where are you?"

"T-the library."

"I'll be right there." He hung up.

Marissa reread the passage, the one single passage that told her about _him_. At least she knew that Andie would be okay. Andie would be okay until all of the monster's demands had been met. Until the prophecy came to pass. It terrified her at the same time that it sent a bit of a thrill through her. She wasn't sure what to think of it; she didn't even want to think about it really. But she had to. It was minutes before Dean showed up, running through the library to where she was. It was also their first lead.

"What is it?"

Marissa pointed to the passage and shifted aside so that Dean could more easily read it. He pulled the book closer, intently reading the article. His brows drew together and his hand clenched before he pulled back.

"At least it's something," Marissa murmured softly, trying to soothe him.

"It's the god of friggin' dreams Marissa!" he snapped lowly, pulling back. He paced behind her, thinking. "What are we supposed to do? I've never even heard of this Hypnos before. A pagan god. Even better. Damn bastards," he muttered as he paced.

"He won't seriously hurt her, or kill her until his prophecy is complete."

"He was allied with Hades! Half of his realm was shared with the underworld! What are we supposed to do?"

A librarian seemed to materialize from nowhere; glaring at Dean she shushed him. Dean rolled his eyes and muttered, looking away from the old woman. He waited until she was gone and no one was in sight, neatly ripping the page out of the book. Marissa gasped, staring at him in disapproval. Dean smirked playfully and shut the book, turning away.

"Come on, we've got to talk to Sam about this."

Marissa followed after him, guilt in her heart. What kind of a man destroyed library books? She could have copied that passage out. Who knew how important that book was? What if someone else needed that page? What were they supposed to do then? She swore she could feel the librarian's eyes glaring after them, cursing the book wreckers as they left.

Marissa got into the Impala, automatically sitting in the back. Dean glanced at her through the rear view mirror, smirking. He shook his head and started the classic car up, her engine roaring to life.

"You could have sat in the front you know. I don't bite…" a smile lit up his face and he chuckled. "Unless you wanted me to…"

Marissa giggled, "I'm underage." She was glad to see that he was at least trying to joke around. It had been awhile since he had at least tried to

"True. And I'm not interested in underage. Too young and too illegal."

Marissa grinned at him through the rearview mirror.

"That's just personal feelings, you know? Gee, I'd hate to think that I broke your heart or something… teenagers get crushes easy... I didn't did I?" he glanced at her again.

Marissa giggled again and shook her head. "You don't care and anyways you know that you're way too ruggedly handsome for_ my_ tastes."

"Ah, Sasquatch more your taste huh?"

Marissa squeaked, blushing sheepishly. She tried to look away, hating that she had just given herself away. Not even had she just given herself away, but apparently she was really transparent too.

"You know… its okay. Illegal and underage is better than skanky and demonic." Dean smiled kindly at her.

"As if I even stand a chance with him, I might as well just be living in my own little fantasy world…" she sighed, bitterness seeping into her tone. She was surprised by the emotion.

"Aren't you supposed to be too young to be bitter and cynical?"

"I've been through enough that I'm older than I should be."

"I'm sorry about that you know…" The Impala crawled to a stop. She caught Dean's blue-green eyes looking at her, slightly pitying and slightly understanding.

"Nothing you could do would change anything. It's okay."

"Thank you Dean," she murmured quietly.

He drove them back to their motel and got out, pulling keys and the paper out. He hurried in and Marissa followed after him. He pulled Sam's laptop out and turned it on, rereading the article.

"He's one of a few hundred dream gods, sometimes they gift good dreams and sometimes they give bad ones. This bastard though, was most well-known as a nightmare giver. There aren't any records of him having given a single good dream to anyone. So he joined his realm with Hades, trapping poor souls in the underworld before they had even died. What kind of a bastard does that? I hate pagan gods. Uhh," Dean scrolled down the website, searching for some more information on Hypnos. Marissa skimmed over his shoulder, trying to see if there was any other worthy information. Some of it had just been reaffirming what the passage had said.

"He can take on the form of the dead… He can reanimate the dead, placing his own soul within any body he chooses. So killing the body won't kill him… It has to be done to the soul," Marissa murmured softly.

"How the hell do you even kill a soul? Er, destroy one –whatever."

"I… don't know."

A scream sounded from somewhere down the hall and Dean reacted instantly, he shoved Marissa back –chair and all. "Hide," he hissed, drawing his gun.

Marissa crawled underneath the desk, not sure what was going on. Her heart was pounding in her chest and she forced herself to breathe evenly. She hated that she was so useless right now. She hated that she didn't even have her visions to help her. To offer them help when they needed it, as if. She was useless alright.

She heard another scream and tensed, wondering what was going on. There were some loud voices, arguing and fast footsteps. She could hear some of the argument, at least and relaxed when she realized it was just the Winchesters.

"…el Sam! You don't just go –!"

"Oh right, right! And what were you doing, jumping out with a drawn gun Dean?"

"Whatever."

Marissa hesitantly crawled out from under the desk, feeling kind of embarrassed. She glanced at Dean, who was completely ignoring Sam. So much for his good day. Sam looked furious, from his tense stance and clenched fists evidence of that. He kept his back to both of them though, clenching his fists.

They'd been fighting a lot. Too many hours in the car, she was sure. She knew it was more than just that. Dean felt frustrated and angry that he hadn't been able to find Andrea and even though this was a lead, it wasn't a very useful one. Marissa took the vacated chair and turned the laptop on again. She swore she saw Sam look over out of the corner of her eye. It was his laptop. Probably wouldn't have been a bad idea if she got one of her own sometime soon.

As much as she knew that Dean was frustrated with all the dead ends, she knew that Sam was frustrated by what was going on in his world. From what she could see all their sporadic driving was making it hard for Ruby to keep up. Sam wasn't getting what he needed and it was driving him mad. The two of them needed to just sit still in one town for a while and relax. Not that they necessarily could in the situation, but they could try. And not driving so much would do wonders for all of them.

Marissa went back to researching about Hypnos, expecting Dean to catch Sam up on what had happened. However, he didn't. Sam walked into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. A moment later the shower turned on. Apparently no one was talking to anyone. Marissa sighed softly, unsure of what would even keep the brothers on the same page. She wasn't sure if she even wanted to interfere in their business. It could be a sibling thing and if she did intervene, or try to, it could just make everything worse. She groaned in frustration, wishing she had her visions back.

Marissa plugged the laptop in and went back to her research. Dean got up and grabbed his jacket, leaving without a word. She cringed as the door shut and wondered if she had upset either of them somehow. She knew that they were angry at each other, but it just felt like they were angry at her too. She heard the shower shut off and focused on reading more about Hypnos.

It seemed like no one knew anything more in-depth about the Greek god. There were too many dream gods; no one had focused on any one of them particularly. When mentioned, the texts kept referring to the dream gods as a collective –there was no singular mention of Hypnos. Or just barely; they mentioned that he was different than the others and that he had shared some connection with Hades. Finding nothing helpful about Hypnos or the dream gods, she moved on to read about Tartarus and Hades and their connection with the dream world.

"What are you reading?" Sam asked, leaning over her. His damp hair clung to his face, green eyes bright. He was clad in only jeans, holding his shirt in his hands.

Marissa turned to look at him and froze, hastily turning back to the computer, a rosy flush spreading across her cheeks. He was very muscular. "A-about Hypnos. We-we found a lead."

"Hypnos…?"

"One of the dream gods, the only one who didn't give people good dreams. A-and uh he can raise the dead by inhabiting their bodies so destroying the bodies won't do anything to him, it has to be done to his soul. Or whatever it is that makes him him."

"Why would he kidnap Andrea then?"

"Because he wants to open Tartarus's Gate. I think. From this passage here anyways, it seems like because his realm was so evil, being entirely made from nightmares that people would die and then move onto Tartarus before their time. The Fates didn't control when these people went –they went before their times and that was something completely unheard of."

"We should keep a close eye on you."

"What?" She turned to look back at him, surprised to find that he had managed to put two shirts on. A little bit of relief filled her that she wouldn't be distracted by his half-nakedness.

"You're the one in that prophecy, the psychic. You have to be. I just don't understand the part about heavenly warriors. Would that be me and Dean? It doesn't seem like it… The angels, that would make sense but I don't know about the connection between you and them."

Marissa swallowed tightly. She couldn't tell him. "It must refer to you and Dean. Aside from Cas I haven't met any other angels." And she smiled a big innocent smile as if she weren't lying.

Sam looked at her briefly, and she wondered if that was suspicion she saw in his eyes. Her smile faltered and she turned away, hating having to lie to him. She shouldn't have to. He should be able to know the truth!

"So what are we supposed to do to keep you safe, to make sure this Hypnos guy doesn't get you?"

"I don't know," she murmured.

"And how are we supposed to stop him? What can destroy a soul?"

"Emotional trauma…"

"A pagan god isn't going to have a lot of that lying around."

"He lost his family, his people."

"Not his powers though."

Sam reached around her, quickly typing in something. He sorted through a few links and drew up a webpage detailing the Greek gods. She knew it had to be a hunter's website. It depicted how to kill certain pagan gods and there were messages asking about certain monsters and how to stop them. It was a little creepy. Marissa moved out of Sam's way so he could take the chair and look for whatever it was that he was searching.

Marissa sat down on the edge of the bed and flicked the television on, skimming through the channels until she found a decent show. She watched it vacantly, not really paying any attention to it. Dean didn't come back. Occasionally she could hear Sam tapping away at the keyboard, a sound she was fast becoming accustomed to. She lay back on the bed, wrapping her arms around herself as she watched the television.

Sam pulled his phone out and called Bobby. They had a quick, hushed conversation. Sam sighed in frustration as he put his cell away and Marissa looked over at him. He went back to his laptop, shifting in his seat. He wasn't going to give up on Andrea either –she smiled softly. Hope fluttered for the first time in a few months.

They knew who had Andrea. And they were going to find out how to stop him.

* * *

_I apologize if this chapter is confusing or scattered. I've written this in pieces over the last two weeks and I've been exhausted and tired during it, also I haven't had my beta edit this because I think she's busy and I just wanted to upload this. I really hope it's not confusing._

_(gaaah, fifty pages of homework last week, not how I wanna spend my time -freeeeeedom!)_


	19. Legendary Weapon

Legendary Weapon

_She wandered, alone. It was a meadow, with long, willowy grass blowing in the breeze. She inhaled lightly, the sweet scents of wildflowers whirling together and swirling around her. She spun once, quick, basking in the bright warm glow of the sun as a midsummer breeze blew. It was a gorgeous day. _

_There was something beyond, though, something that propelled her. She stepped gracefully out of her spin, well-balanced and kept walking. She listened, and swore that in the distance she could hear the ocean. The waves crashing against the shore and slipping back into the sea, another wave rolling into the store and dragging back away into the sea. It was so beautiful._

_She slowly walked along, the grass tickling against her bare arms. She felt like she was buried in the grass, gently comforted by it as it carried her along. It was so very dreamlike, tranquil and peaceful. She liked it and the feeling that it left behind as she walked along._

_The meadow led her to a town. Soft ground gave way to hard pavement. She saw a sign hanging from one building –Tranquility Beyond. She smiled and continued along. The town was quaint and cute, old style redbrick building lined the cobblestone roads and she followed along. The road led her to a building, a random building at that. The style was completely wrong compared to the other Victorian styled houses as this one was more of a Roman design with its columns that supported the pavilion. Behind it there was an archway and a yawning blackness opened in the cliff-face. She hadn't even noticed that it was build into the mountain and it looked completely natural. _

_She could still hear the sound of the ocean as she walked up to the last building in the town. She lingered before ascending the three steps, looking at the magnificent thing. It was impressive and gorgeous with intricate details carved into the columns. Beautiful and natural indeed._

_She took a step onto the small platform and suddenly she was jerked from her body and propelled into the cave. Her spirit self, if that was what it were to be called was flying over the dark ground. She couldn't make out any shapes below her, it was just a shapeless black blur beneath her –there was no light within the cave. _

_And just as suddenly as her out-of-body experience had begun, it came to a crashing halt._

_There was a purplish light filling the room, pulsating with an energy she could just detect. It was a strange aura and she felt goose bumps crawl over her skin, forcing her to shudder. If her spirit self could even shudder. That was a curious question indeed. _

_She approached the wooden platform which stretched across the shallow water to a small island. She followed it diligently, careful of where she stepped and leery of the untold secrets that the water held. There was a mound of dirt gathered in the center of the island, looking hastily down and rather pathetic. She could see the hilt of something standing there, right there within her reach. _

_Curious, she reached towards it and it was as though a barrier surrendered to her. She wrapped her hand around it and felt it go right through. Suddenly, a searing pain slammed into her. It was as though it was her entire spirit self was being shredded to piece. She screamed as the pain intensified and she felt as though she had just been ripped apart, and she screamed again. And again. The pain did not cease._

With a scream Marissa jerked awake, clutching her blankets. She sat up and hastily moved out of her bed, still feeling the lingering pain. She grabbed her stomach, feeling her damp pajamas stick to her body. Relaxation flittered through her, just briefly and she exhaled softly as she flicked the light on. She had her own, private room. Sometimes she ended up sharing the same room as the Winchesters –typically Sam took the floor or the armchair or something so she could have a bed. Sometimes he didn't. It was okay though. But she definitely liked having her own room, all to herself. Dean's snoring could probably wake the dead.

Marissa exhaled shakily and opened the door before the Winchester on the other side could knock it down. Sam looked at her, a quick glance to check if she had any injuries.

"Bad dream?" she nodded. "I think you should stay with us."

"W-what but I'm fine –"

"Yes, you are. But he could have just as easily gotten to you tonight. It's dangerous." His eyes were on hers, hard and resolute. He wasn't going to give up on this. "Dean doesn't need any more guilt right now."

That was true… "Sam –"

"Pack your stuff up, come on."

Marissa rubbed at her eyes and obediently went into her room. She glanced at the digital clock and sighed. It wasn't even seven o'clock in the morning yet. Marissa grabbed what little belongings she had packed up and stuffed them into her bag, leaving her room. She followed Sam into his and Dean's and escaped into the bathroom, quickly showering before changing.

She shuffled out into the room and found that Sam had left to get breakfast. Dean snorted, rolling onto his side. She idly wondered when he had gotten in last night. She didn't really want to think about what he might have done however, or where he might have been. She opened Sam's laptop and started researching.

It was a half hour since Sam had left since she felt that _tug_. It was like when she had visions all the time and something important had happened. She froze completely and waited, desperate for another tug. Something that she could follow. Her fingers typed on their own, searching for some mention of a dagger in a black leather sheath with foreign shapes all over it.

It was a half hour after Sam had returned and she'd eaten breakfast that she found it. What it was. She hadn't told Sam what led her to search for the thing in the first place, but he'd let her search while he tried to find out where the symbols came from.

It was called the Nightmare Knife. A long lost Roman artifact. And it looked exactly like it had in her dream which kind of scared her. She didn't even know if it was her _own_ dream. But there was legitimacy to the knife, to what it was and what it did that made her doubt that the dream could have been from the pagan god.

"Sam," she said quietly.

He moved over to look at the screen, his eyes widened. Dean was just beginning to wake up. Marissa highlighted the most important line on the whole page.

… Has the ability to make anyone relieve their worst fears and infect the soul, thereby destroying it forever.

It was the solution. However, the location of the answer was unknown. Since the Greeks had fallen to the Romans it had been missing. The purpose of the knife had been used to destroy the remnants of the Greek gods which was why they weren't around anymore. This knife could kill _anything_. It wasn't just the soul –it was the essence of the being and it would rip it to shreds.

And she knew once Sam and Dean excitedly began talking about the uses of the knife. About every monster they could kill. About Lucifer, if he were to rise. Of course, they didn't actually say his name. Marissa knew as soon as their discussion headed down that direction, that this was why Cas had demanded the weapon. It was just a little frightening.

* * *

_I'm sorry for the short chapter, but trust me the next three _will_ be long. And as I still haven't heard from my beta, this chapter is also unbeta'd. Also, I apologize if this seems at all abrupt. I'm just tackling this story head-on. _

_Now, I have an important question for everyone that I would really appreciate being answered._

_Would you like some detailed sexual activity? Or more tamer ones? And if it's going to be detailed at all, I would ask you all after I update the next chapter to determine if it should be rated M or not. (I wish there was an Older Teen rating) I'm really hard on myself and would much rather rate higher to be on the safe side than not, so I'll leave it to you readers to determine :)_


	20. The Trial of Imperfection

The Trial of Imperfection

They were able to find the town that Marissa had dreamt of with a lot of difficulty and some help from Bobby. It was a small town in Wisconsin, tucked away in the middle of nowhere. The townspeople didn't even know that the place existed despite how many people had gone and visited it. Although in her dream the Romanesque style to the structure had been obvious, she had seen it from years before people had populated this place. It was old and worn and there was an oppressive aura radiating from the place. It was so thick that Marissa almost would have stayed behind. Almost.

She remembered Cas's warning. That if Sam or Dean touched the knife three times, they would die. She _had_ to go with them. And she would have to try and keep it a secret from them that she even knew –for their own good. She hated the position that she'd been put in. She wanted to tell them the truth, but she couldn't.

They approached it cautiously. Marissa made sure that she kept at their sides, refusing to be separated from them. She didn't want to go in. The closer they got to the archway, the more oppressive the aura became. It was so thick and present that she felt as though she were gagging each step she took. She wanted to turn and run away, escape the place. But she couldn't. She couldn't and she wouldn't. She wouldn't let the two hunters die. She wouldn't let Andrea die.

Her resolve strengthened and she battled past the aura until she was within the entrance. She was shocked to realize that she had made it first to the cave; Sam and Dean were close behind. Dean looked disturbed and Sam just appeared disgusted, both sporting identical grimaces. Marissa exhaled softly, realizing that she wasn't the only who had been affected by that energy.

She stepped inside with both Winchesters, the rocky surface of the ground hard and unforgiving. Three steps inside and the light died. It literally died. As though it was impossible for it to exist where they were –they could see the exit behind them but the light didn't expand beyond the first foot that it enveloped. And it was scary, there was a lingering edge of that oppressive aura and there was no light whatsoever.

Marissa fought with herself to keep herself from grabbing onto the nearest Winchester. She couldn't allow herself to do something quite as ridiculous as that. Sam and Dean both pulled flashlights out and the light the bulb provided was almost pitiful in the pitch black of the merciless cave.

"Three wish to enter? Three alone may enter but they must each forge their own path. Face the obstacles, the fear and if you are pure of intention the blade may be yours. Should you fail by will or lack thereof, death will be your reward. You. Have. Been. Warned." The voice was a great booming voice, echoing in the silence.

Torches suddenly flared to light, illuminating three pathways that Marissa was sure couldn't have existed seconds before. The three of them shared a gaze, nodding and reaffirming their resolution. For Sam and Dean it had to be easier –they put their lives on the line everyday. Marissa didn't. But she knew that she had to continue on, so she did. She took the middle path, figuring that it wouldn't matter which one she did take.

The brothers split up and with a palpable tension, all three of them started on their path.

Marissa's path changed from hard rocky terrain, to a soft and smooth one. It was unusual. Almost like walking on grass that had been lightly packed down. It was slightly bouncy in a surreal way, and she decided it would better to not linger on what she could be walking on.

Sunlight brightened and Marissa stumbled confused. Suddenly, it was as though she had walked into her perfect world.

"Hey sweetheart," Sam said, smiling brightly from his book. He was sitting on a lawn chair, a blanket spread out before the two chairs and a picnic basket waiting. She swore she could see a bottle of champagne poking out of the basket and a hesitant smile spread on her lips.

"H-hey." She shuffled over to sit in the vacant chair.

"I've been waiting for you," he leaned over and kissed her cheek lightly, his green eyes dancing. He pulled the basket a little closer and opened it, pulling out a few saran wrapped plates and handing one to her, taking the other one for himself. She took the plastic plate, looking at the hors d'oeuvres. They looked really good, and she wondered if Sam had made them himself or just bought them.

"What's the occasion?" she inquired, looking around the backyard.

It was a backyard and they were under the shade of a great maple. It was cute and romantic. She could see their two-storey house and it looked just like she always wished her perfect house would. White with blue trim and a rather simplistic design, reminiscent of the Old Southern styles she had seen while running from Richard. And of course, she was sure it had to be an influence from Sam, but there was a white picket fence.

She smiled tenderly, a flittering thought pressing in on her consciousness, reminding her that she was here to do something important. She brushed the thought aside, wanting to live this dream just a little longer. This fantasy where everything was perfect, where it was just like it was supposed to be.

"You don't remember?" he frowned at her, unwrapping his lunch.

She shook her head, not moving to unwrap her plate. Somehow, she didn't want it. She just wanted to watch Sam a little longer, to bask in this warm fluffiness that had enveloped her. This realistic version of her hopes and dreams. She knew it would never be perfect, that if this were the real Sam that he would be a little colder. She didn't mind. She just knew that it was going to be perfect in the end –that was all that mattered to her.

"It's our anniversary."

"Oh." Oh? Of all things she could say, oh was the only one that came to mind?

Sam frowned worriedly. "Baby, is something wrong?" He set his hand on her shoulder, gently rubbing her shoulder comfortingly.

"No, nothing." But something was –

He smiled softly, dimples flashing and leaned over and kissed her. Marissa kissed him back helplessly, melting into the kiss as their warm mouths met. He sought permission with the lightest prod and she granted it to him without a second thought. He caressed her cheek, calloused fingers lightly dragging down her cheek and to her neck. He pressed his will against hers, fighting her tongue for dominance and she gave it to him. She would give him whatever he asked from her, forever and always.

He pulled back with a smile and kissed the end of her nose sweetly. Marissa grinned back helplessly at him. He kissed her lovingly once more before pulling back, caressing her cheek adoringly.

It felt so real, so perfect…

XX

Marissa murmured contently as she woke up, Sam's arm around her. It was a feeling she could grow used to. She smiled serenely and snuggled closer to him. She shyly inhaled his scent, mint with a hint of something uniquely Sam.

"Good morning," he murmured, nuzzling her sweetly.

Marissa beamed at him lovingly. "Morning."

"Did you sleep well?" He slowly stretched and she could feel his muscles tighten as he did so.

"Yeah," she snuggled him. "You?"

"I always sleep better with you." He was gazing at her with adoration again, a bright smile across his lips.

Marissa giggled, "When have you ever been this cheesy?"

Hurt flashed across his features and Marissa found it strange. Bizarre actually. Sam was not that fragile.

"Since always," he mumbled, releasing her and rolling over so his back was to her.

Marissa blinked in confusion. "Sam a-are you alright?"

"I'm fine," he retorted waspishly. "You're the one that's not alright."

"I am not!"

"You are!" he rolled back over to face her, fire in his green eyes. "You're acting weird, different. Like I should be at arms distance or something, as if you don't trust me!"

Marissa spluttered in realization, her protest dying on her lips.

"And you know it," he continued. "I don't know what's wrong with you but it's almost as if you can't believe that this is happening, that I'm even real!"

Marissa cringed back from the truth that rang in every word. How was she supposed to deny any of it?

"I love you," she whispered pleadingly.

"Oh well isn't that just peachy keen?" he sneered, getting out of bed.

Marissa flinched, surprised by the pain of his rejection. Tears filled her eyes. This was closer to the real Sam, the Sam that hurt her every day without meaning to. The Sam that was teaching her self-defense. Her Sam wasn't like this –this lovey-dovey mushiness. It was wonderful, it really was. But it wasn't Sam. He wasn't who she had fallen in love with. That was why she was acting so weird around him.

Because she didn't love this Sam. This Sam, here in this world, was too perfect. He was romantic and cuddly and passionate and she loved the idea of that. She did not like it in reality however. Marissa was eager to fall in love with the idea of how perfect their relationship could be, but she knew that this was never going to be her reality because Sam was never going to be like this. And she was perfectly okay with that. She didn't want Sam to worship at her feet –she wanted to have a relationship with him. She wanted to be with him.

She wanted Sam Winchester. Kind and gentle, alternatively moody and slightly sensitive. She wanted the bitter, angry Sam who hated his brother. The revenge driven, blood drinking imperfect Sam who hurt her. She wanted that Sam, despite everything. She didn't need someone who fit her ideal because it felt so unreal.

Marissa smiled softly and exhaled… And found herself back in the cave. It was as though a fog had been lifted. She was alone once again. She continued on.

XX

"So Dean, _darling_," Andrea stated the minute he became aware.

"Yeah sweetheart?" he mumbled sleepily. Could she not ask him later?

"I gather you had _fun_ last night."

The way she said that, it sounded like fun was the worst possible thing he could have done. Was there some important date he'd missed? No. No, her birthday was a few months away… Wasn't it? He hoped it was. "Y-yes…?"

She patted him on the back lightly and there was some aura of certainty that he sensed from her. It wasn't comforting, that she was so confident when he had obviously done something that had pissed her off. He grimaced, hoping that she didn't know precisely what had gone on last night.

"Marissa told me. Reluctantly, but she was on my side."

"You gotta work on your bluffing skills babe. Unless I'm unaware of just how much I recently angered her… Even then though I don't think Mari would really interfere with our relationship."

"It doesn't really matter," she snapped. "I know you slept with that chick."

Damn it, she knew. Dean tried to shift, to offer her a patient look and bullshit his way out of the situation. But he couldn't move. He froze, frowning in concern. He shifted again and looked up to his hands… Which were currently handcuffed to the headboard. With fuzzy pink handcuffs. Of course only his girl would do something so humiliating.

"Take them off," he growled. He noticed that his feet were cuffed together to the end of the bed as well, in identical cuffs.

"No," she replied gleefully, walking around him as she inspected him like a pig for slaughter. Or sale. He wasn't quite sure which was worse right now.

"Andie," he growled warningly, tugging at the cuffs. "This isn't funny."

"Oh I know babe, I know," she shot him a sympathetic look only betrayed by her smirk. She patted his toned stomach and slowly slid her hand back up his bare chest, resting over his heart. "But I'm dead serious. And if you insist on fighting, I'll just blindfold you."

"Okay, Hun… I'm not into that kink."

Andrea arched a brow, looking at him dubiously. "Really Dean? You seem to enjoy tying me up and blindfolding me. Why can't I return the favor?" she pouted. It was a sexy pout, her full bottom lip sticking out and her eyes a little darker than usual. "Or is it just that you don't want to lose all that power?"

Dean glared at her –he didn't care how sexy she looked. There was no way that he was just going to remain cuffed to the bed and not fight. He wasn't here for her to simply take advantage of. Not that she _could_ take advantage of him if she wanted to.

"Baby," she murmured, running her hands down his body.

He shuddered unwillingly and cursed himself for his reaction to her touch. He wasn't trying to make this easy for her. And anyways, when had she even managed to tie him up? He wasn't an easy sleeper.

"You do sleep pretty soundly when you're a little drunk," she murmured, as though answering his thought. That was strange. Andrea wasn't a psychic or a mind reader. She kneaded his chest, slowly leaning onto the bed. He could just feel her leg pressed against his side as she slowly but diligently massaged down his chest.

He realized then that she was ahead of the game. She'd already stripped him bare. Dean could only just remember stumbling in drunk last night, but he distinctly remembered falling onto the bed fully clothed. Andie worked quick and efficiently apparently. And to make matters worse (or better) he already had quite the reaction going on for her. He felt a tightening in his stomach, a flutter of excitement as her hands continued down his stomach, lingering below his navel. A deep groan worked its way up his throat, and just as he opened his mouth to release the contentment he was feeling, Andrea moved away.

"This isn't for your pleasure Dean," she sniffled, her eyes twinkling.

"Andie," he growled, trying to shift.

"Uh-uh Dean. I don't like it when you sleep with other women. I mean, _sure_ we're not exactly together, together but that's because of you. I count you mine. And you let that bitch mark you!"

He tried to look where she was pointing, but he couldn't. It seemed to be a mark just underneath his jaw or something, probably a hickey. He'd told her hickeys and scratching was out of the question. They always pissed Andie off –not that he did it that often or anything. Just sometimes, when they were fighting or if a hunt had gone south. Andie didn't need to deal with him all the time and he didn't particularly want to deal with her all the time. Especially when she started bitching at him about stuff. He didn't exactly live with Andrea, but they shared a room pretty frequently and she came on a good number of hunts with them. She didn't actually hunt –she did the less dangerous stuff. Like impersonating FBI and so on.

"Baby," he looked over at her, trying to give her one a pleading look. He shouldn't have even tried to do it in the first place as all it got him was a tart smack on his stomach, that didn't quite take the breath out of him.

"Don't even say anything."

"B –"

"Don't."

Pl –"

"_Dean_!" she snapped warningly, glaring at him "If I hear another sound from you I will gag and blindfold you!"

"Oh come on!" he burst out before he could stop himself. "Andie I didn't want to bug you!"

And, true to her word, Andrea moved over towards the nightstand. She pulled open the middle drawer and yanked out two pieces of black fabric. Dean started to jerk on the cuffs, feeling them chafe against his skin but not caring about it. It was more important that he get away from Andrea. Sure, he liked some kinks but he wasn't one for masochism. It wasn't his thing. Sadism also wasn't. He liked being in control, he also liked giving control up in some circumstances (but not this one) and overall, he just liked sex.

"Andie, baby," he pleaded, struggling with the cuffs determinedly. They were fuzzy and fucking pink –they couldn't be real. They had to be flimsy fake things that would break right away.

"Oh, Dean-o," she smiled coldly. "Shut up."

And there went his sight. He jerked his head back and forth, arched his body as much as he could to try and prevent her from tying it. Andie simply straddled him, rolling her hips and reducing him to a moaning blob. She knotted the blindfold just like he had taught her –in hindsight, perhaps he should have reconsidered that.

"A-Andie, baby, please. Don't do this." He felt her move off him, her warmth leaving his.

"I told you Dean. Told you the consequences."

"You never told me you'd do this!" he argued, renewing his struggles. He wasn't about to be cowed so easily.

He sensed her draw near and she straddled him again, her thin nightgown pooling around her as she pressed down on him. She wasn't playing fair, still being dressed. He wasn't even sure if he was going to get sex or if she was just going to tie him up for a few days yet.

"Oh I did," she growled, biting just under his jaw. It wasn't a nasty bite or anything, but he didn't fight until she drew back. It some possession thing. He wasn't hers but she still felt some need to be able to say that he was hers, even though when the opportunity came he would go back out and sleep with another woman. Andrea wasn't always the one he would go to.

"I told you that if you slept with another woman again, I was going to tie you down and torture you until you surrendered to me. My strong Dean, submissive and willing to _me_. And me alone." There was some longing in her voice if he wasn't mistaken and he opened his mouth to say something and she shoved the fabric in. Again, she wasn't careless with the gesture. She pressed more firmly against him, making sure that the fabric was in good enough that he couldn't easily spit it out or choke on it.

He wasn't sure whether to be impressed by her actions or angry.

Dean knew that she had to be smirking down at him right about now. She still hadn't moved off him yet, and he bucked his hips and felt her press back down against him. A soft moan was shared between the two of them and slowly their bodies started to work together, pleasure building between them. Dean forgot that he was even trapped in handcuffs and relied solely on his lower body to identify what Andrea was doing to him.

Her hands slid across his sides, down along his ribs before settling on his hips to achieve balance and an easier position. Andrea continued her motions, driving them towards the peak and just as Dean was perfectly poised, breathing faster and shallower, she moved off him. The loss of friction and warmth was far from the satisfaction he had been about to attain –a rough growl was torn from his lips and he started to struggle again. He worked his jaw and tongue together to force the gag closer to his lips, to get rid of the thing. He couldn't sense Andrea anywhere near him and that was driving him insane. He was sure that she had to have more plans behind her back, just waiting to throw them at him. He wasn't about to let her get away with it either.

He could hear her however, as he spat the gag out (hopefully towards the direction of the wall) and he shifted to try and rest his shoulder over it so that she wouldn't be able to find it again. The fabric was surprisingly soft and not too damp. He guessed that it was silk, which again brought up the question of where Andrea had bought these nice little props. A worse question filtered through his mind; when had she even bought them?

He could hear her moaning –she had done nothing to disguise her voice. Her cries of satisfaction only served to slap him in the face as he could do nothing for himself as he was. He growled angrily.

"This isn't funny," he muttered.

He shifted his arm closer to his face, trying to work on getting the fabric onto his forehead and above his eyes so that he could see again. He doubted that he would be able to get it off his head, but he might at least be able to see.

"Oh Deanie baby," she cooed and he could hear the euphoria dripping from her voice as she sat right beside him, her hand resting on his leg. "It's okay, really." She let her hand glide down his leg. "You know I love you."

He tensed. It wasn't often that she threw that word around. Sam had often mentioned about how Andrea had to be awfully patient since Dean refused to tell her the same thing, yet she was still willing to wait for him despite everything he did to her. Like sleeping with other women.

"I wouldn't hurt you or anything, not seriously." Her hand slid back up his leg, brushing his kneecap. "You know this is just to teach you a lesson right?" Her hand didn't stop until it had reached his hip, and then tantalizingly glided itself right across to his other hip. She had to be leaning just across him and he could feel the warmth of her body so close to his.

He arched his hips, straining to try and have flesh meet flesh. She giggled and shifted. "Not until you've learned your lesson Dean," she chided playfully.

He scowled under his blindfold.

"Baby don't be like that," she murmured softly, placing a light kiss on his chest. "I don't like it when you sleep around."

"Yeah well who does?" he snapped. "I do." The words were out of his mouth before he could even stop them, but he didn't try to apologize for them.

Silence reigned. He could hear her breaths, soft light exhalations. Her small, warm hands rested on his hips and gradually rubbed slight circles into them. He moved his hips with her movements as she continued and he wondered why she hadn't just quit and left already like she usually would have.

"Dean," she murmured softly.

"Yeah?" he asked wearily. There should be a slap or something soon. He waited for it.

"Baby, I want you."

Well that was… unexpected. "I want you too," he replied confusedly. He most certainly did want her, and his body was showing her the signs. There was no way to really miss out on a sign like that. It was practically –no, it _was_ –screaming for attention.

Andrea moved over him, tugging his blindfold up onto his forehead. Her eyes were darkened with lust and she had lost what little clothes she had been wearing. She kissed him passionately, moving over him and bringing them together.

XX

Dean lay in bed next to Andrea, hands and feet uncuffed. It had been a wild night that was for sure. And pretty awesome. He should have known that Andrea would be a tigress in bed –she certainly lived up to that standard. And she certainly surpassed the other women he had slept with. Well, some of them. Most of them. He slowly carded his fingers through her hair, fine brunette strands with the odd tangle. He smiled softly and tenderly kissed her cheek. She smiled in her sleep and shifted closer to Dean, her back pressed comfortably against his chest. He had his arm around her waist and from the lack of feeling he guessed it had been few hours at least. He slowly eased away from her, not wanting to disturb her beauty rest. She could be a bitch when she didn't get enough sleep.

She sighed softly, her breathing even and deep. He smiled softly, admiring her lean figure. She was most certainly his. But something about him being hers bothered him a bit. And actually, so did her reaction about him having slept with those women. Sure she'd been possessive and made her point last night, covering him with hickeys whenever she got the chance but that just didn't seem right.

If she was his and she viewed him as being hers, then he was pretty sure the reaction would have been a bit different. This was a nice enough dream as far as dreams went anyways, but it was definitely not reality. There would have been a fight and maybe angry sex in a few days. There wouldn't have been a control hungry Andrea. At least he was pretty sure of that.

With a sigh he came to, back in the dark and dingy cavern. He shook his head, smirking. This bastard would have to do better than this if he wanted to fool Dean Winchester.

XX

Sam ran through the halls of Stanford, nearly a minute late to his class. In thirty seconds it would be two minutes. Professor McCallum was well-known for hating late students. He tended to humiliate them if he could, and then would talk to the other students about resocialization and one day after the late students had had enough they would simply no longer be late. For Professor McCallum there was no excuse good enough to warrant a student arriving late. Sometimes, it was almost better to not arrive at all.

Sam slipped in through the open door and grabbed the first empty seat he came across. He smiled contently; glad to be back in class. With Lilith dead and the seals stopped, he'd had enough of hunting. Well, full-time hunting at least. He was a part-time student, which would mean that it would probably take him a few more years to get through the program but this way he had enough time to help Dean out.

And since the whole Apocalypse had been averted, the angels had brought Jess back. Not as a reward, but because her death had been part of Sam's destiny to put him down the path of becoming a key player in their stupid war. Now that Sam didn't have to fight anymore, they had returned her and it was as if everything was the same. They were going to get married –they just hadn't set a date yet. Sam was reluctant to progress things beyond that stage since he was still hunting. Once he finished hunting, then he would marry her. Even so, being with her like this was dangerous.

But he loved her and he wasn't going to let her go a second time.

He started to write down what McCallum was saying. He glanced beside him and noticed that Marissa was there, looking as attentive as ever. Her neat scrawl spread across the page as she diligently wrote down _every_ word that their professor said. Sam took down the main idea and supporting ones, in a more organized way than his companion was.

"You missed this," Marissa whispered, sliding a handout over to him. It was an overview of their final project and what was expected from it.

She smiled kindly at him and Sam smiled back at her. She was nice, but she knew that he was with Jess. Marissa had never really been pushy, but at least now she wasn't completely head-over-heels in love with who she thought he was. She was twenty-two and on her way to becoming a psychologist. She had good grades, well excellent ones and was pretty much friends with everyone. Marissa and Jess even got along despite their relationships with him; Jess was perfectly aware of Marissa's feelings. Sam had told her when they'd gotten back together and had had some time to enjoy each other's company. And he knew that Marissa had of course seen it.

Sometimes he wondered if it was just because of her psychic powers that she managed to do so well in class. Pretty much effortlessly at that, but she had told him repetitively that her powers didn't work like that. He was inclined to believe her because as much as he would have believed otherwise, her powers were more of a burden than a benefit for her.

Everything was right in the world.

XX

Sam knew it wasn't real. There was no way he could ever be together with Jess again, as much as he wanted to. Marissa wasn't some hot twenty-two year old; she was a cute eighteen year old. Too young for him –he was almost ten years older than her. Lilith being dead was pretty close to reality though because he was going to hunt her down and kill her. But he wouldn't return to school after that, even if he had the choice. Dean needed him and he was far down this path that there was no way he could ever return. He was pretty sure of that.

But, while it lasted, it was an alright dream.

Sam opened his eyes to find himself back in the dark cavern and with resolution he headed deeper into the dark. The sooner they saved Andrea the sooner he could go back to hunting Lilith. It was too difficult with how they had been jumping from town to town for Ruby to keep up with them. He checked his pocket to make sure he still had the flask of demon blood with him. Relief caused him to relax –he still had it.

* * *

_This a three part thing right now._

_And as I thought, my beta is really busy right now and I don't want to wait until mid-December to get these chapters out._

_I'm sorry about the shortness of Sam's perfect world but I had a lot of trouble deciding on _what _his world would be. Would it be Law school? Being a lawyer? Being a hunter and killing Lilith? What about after Lilith, then where does it go from there -being a perfect hunter? I wasn't sure so I basically meshed two worlds together. _

_I hope you like. Please, let me know what you think :)_


	21. Face Your Fears

Face Your Fears

Marissa froze as she entered the one place she did not want to be. Her own personal hell. She knew it the instant the rocky terrain gave way to rain slicked pavement as the rain pounded down. She could hear the ocean slamming into the shore and she saw the faint lights from the city behind her. She was halfway to the shore already, near exhausted. Her legs were aching but she didn't slow down even as her chest started to burn and tighten. She couldn't stop.

"Ge' back here ya little whore!" slurred Richard as he chased after her.

He was in his prime, young and fit, and despite being so drunk he couldn't walk in a straight line he was chasing her. Marissa ran, desperate to get away before he sold her again. She remembered the pain from the last man –she was sure that there had been no kindness in him. Tears streaked down her cheeks as she headed for the boat that she had seen earlier. Soon he would be taking passengers and leaving this place.

She didn't care where he was going, but she did care about getting away from Richard. She could hear his heavy footsteps thumping into the wet puddles behind her and knew that he was gaining on her. There was no way that she could outrun him in her condition.

She skidded to a stop and then darted to the side. She didn't know where she was going now, but she did know that it had thrown Richard off enough that he had fallen. She could hear him swearing behind her. She headed back to the docks, determined to get away from Richard –there was nowhere else for her to go but to that boat. Her lungs felt as though they were on fire and every breath she took was agonizing, as though she processed less and less oxygen each breath.

Her head start on Richard wouldn't do her much good in the long run, she knew. The pavement ended and she kept going, stumbling forwards and nearly falling. She slammed her hands onto the shore and they skidded across some sharp rocks which dug into her skin, cutting through flesh. Sand burst up from the earth, flying towards her and pelting against her face. She was glad she had shut her eyes for impact. She pushed herself back up, her knee skimming the ground as she raced towards the dock. She could only just see it, and beyond it was the black ocean thrashing violently. Lights. She could see faint lights and she knew that that had to be the boat, she stumbled again, her body forcing her to slow down. She didn't know how close Richard was to her, but she trusted that because she couldn't hear him he had to be back still.

She jogged as fast as her body would let her, taking in huge gulps of air that burned worse each breath she took. Her chest ached so terribly, but she wasn't going to let it stop her. She saw the lights move further away, fearing that the boat was going to leave without her started to run again.

But there was nowhere to go. The dock beneath her was gone, her last step sending her flying out towards the ocean. She didn't even have a second to hold her breath as she plummeted into the icy water. She kicked, arms flailing to try and get back to the surface and expel the water she had just inhaled. Her eyes watered and she couldn't see anything but she felt her arm break through and her head followed. She coughed, once, expelling the fluid she had nearly inhaled when a swell slammed into her, knocking the air out of her and sending her tumbling back down into the darkness.

She fought again to try and get to the surface, but her body felt so sluggish and her chest ached. She wasn't going to die to get away from Richard –that had never been her plan. She hadn't even met Sam yet. She hadn't done enough. She wasn't going to die here –she couldn't die here. She just managed to break to the surface, completely exhausted when another wave rolled into her. It tossed her like she was a ragdoll, slamming her against the wharf.

Pain flared through her back and her limbs wouldn't respond the way she wanted them to. She sank, the waves trying to push her back more and more as she tried to fight it. Something snared her leg and she pulled, trying to get away. It was a weak pull as she attempted to do anything. Her body was so weak. Another wave churned through the ocean, seizing her with it as it tumbled and slammed into the shore. Marissa was unable to accompany it; trapped against the frame of the dock but whatever her foot was caught on ripped through her jeans and she felt it slice open her skin like nothing. And then the pain hit.

A scream was torn from her lips as she could no longer hold her breath and water came flooding into her body. She flailed violently, body tossing and turning and the slicing continued. The ocean again slammed into her frail body, buffeting it roughly against the wooden bars. She had thought her lungs had been burning before, now they had exploded.

She felt so heavy and useless. She couldn't move her body. Her eyelids fell shut, and Marissa was held for a long moment in limbo. It felt as though the ocean had stopped for her, to let her pass away as peacefully as it could. Marissa knew she wouldn't make it to the surface. She didn't have the energy to move any part of her. And somewhere deep inside her, she knew that she was going to die.

Arms grabbed hold of her, jerking her forwards and whatever it was slashed open the back of her leg. The pain was so far away she was barely aware of it –all she could see was whiteness. She was aware of her body being pulled and tugged and then she was tossed inelegantly onto the shore.

Maybe Sam had saved her, some part of her brain wondered. She hoped it was him because if she was about to die she would like to at least see him once and now was as good a time as any.

A harder force slammed into her chest and she spat water up, coughing violently as she rolled over half onto her stomach as she retched violently. Water and debris pooled before her and she barely managed to move away from it. Her eyes watered and stung and her whole body felt broken and beaten. Strong arms helped her to her feet, not that she could stand unaided. Her injured leg gave out under her and a pathetic whimpered cry was torn from her lips. She didn't have the breath or the energy to even cry out. She could barely even keep her eyes open.

"Yer not getting' away that easy," he growled roughly and tossed her over his shoulder and headed back.

She had been fourteen. She never went near the open water again. She didn't stop trying to get away from Richard –she took whatever chance she could afford.

She felt as though the ocean had spat her out as she stumbled and fell down. She took deep breaths of air, holding the ground to make sure that she was really alive. That she was really okay. The memory was mostly blurry, and had been until now. Trembles shook her body and she held still and breathed for as long as she could as she tried to get herself under control. That was why she hated water. Open water anyways, and deep water. It was dangerous just the same. Sure, she liked to observe and listen to the water but she would never ever enter it again. One near death experience was more than enough for her.

She got back to her feet, wiping at her eyes. She shuddered involuntarily and hesitated. She knew that she had to go on because Sam and Dean needed her. She couldn't leave them to die. She couldn't give up here because she was afraid of what might come next.

She knew that she would never have Sam so idealist and practically perfect, but she thought that on his own he was a pretty good human being most of the time. She wouldn't mind those bad days. But it looked more and more like she would never have a chance with him, that he would simply follow his blood addicted path and leave her behind.

She didn't want to have to live through experiences that she had survived. God, she did not want to have anything to do with that. She could only pray that whatever happened next was over and done quickly so that they could retrieve the Nightmare Knife and move on. She wanted to get out of this cave and quickly. Self disgust and loathing bubbled to the surface and she had to fight back her feelings. This wasn't the time for self-pity.

XXI

Dean drove as fast as was possibly safe to do. Well, maybe a little faster than that. He had to get to Andrea. He couldn't let her die. He had to save her. Sam was distracting Hypnos with Marissa and together they were going to be able to kill the bastard while Dean saved Andrea. He could only hope that after her being held for so long that she was going to be okay. He didn't really expect that she would be okay, but he believed that she would alive seeing as how Hypnos needed Marissa present as well.

Dean kept driving and driving even as he sped. He stopped for gas only when it was absolutely necessary as he continued on. He grew exhausted and took only a few short hour naps when he had no other choice. He managed to make the two day trip into one.

He threw the Impala into park and raced out towards the shack into the middle of nowhere. Outside, tied to a post he caught sight of a rusty dress fluttering in the breeze. He felt guilt seize his heart and he hoped that she wasn't dead as he ran over, pulling his knife out.

Andrea looked thin, too thin and too pale, but he could see her chest moving. As he worked on cutting the ropes off he noticed that her breaths were growing shallower. Hurriedly he cut her free and gently set her down. He leaned close too her chest, feeling the rise and fall of her chest without blocking it. He pulled back worriedly, looking at her. It was a several hour's drive to the hospital no matter which direction he took.

Her eyelids fluttered and she opened her eyes, smiling wanly. "D-Dean?" she murmured thickly, eyes half open.

"Yeah Andie, it's me," he smiled softly, not letting his emotions through. He couldn't risk upsetting her by letting her seeing just how worried he was. If he had to, he could use CPR but he doubted that it would really do much for her at this point. He wasn't sure what was wrong with her. "How're you feeling?"

"Tired," she yawned softly. "And a little hungry, I think. It's been a long time, hasn't it?"

"Yeah, yeah it sure has," he smiled kindly at her and set his hand over hers. "Andie, I'm gonna get you out of here. Okay?"

"Okay Deanie," she giggled weakly, coughing exhaustedly as she smiled up at him.

"I'm sorry it took so long…"

"Don't worry about it Dean."

He rubbed her hand and grabbed his cell out, dialing the emergency number. He told the ambulance his location and knew that he would have to leave Andrea as soon as they were close enough before he got arrested. He didn't want to though. He figured that he could probably make it to the hospital and make sure that she had insurance and everything before he left her. He needed to know that she was going to be okay.

He looked back at her and felt his heart drop. Her eyes were shut and she was barely breathing. He leaned close to her and listened to her breaths. She was not doing well at all. He pulled back, looking at her. She was all skin and bones and there were a few old injuries on her –none of them were too serious. Feeling the need to do _something_ he started to wrap the wounds so that they wouldn't start bleeding when the paramedics moved her. His shirt was in tatters by the time he was done and her breathing was even less pronounced. He could have left her to get the first-aid kit but he wasn't going to until he had no other choice.

He gently opened her mouth and knew that soon he was going to have to try something. Dean refused to admit that she was going to die. He was going to keep her alone if he had to but she was not going to die! As soon as she stopped breathing he started CPR. He kept at it steadily and as time passed he focused his time on just the compressions. She wasn't going to die. That was his only thought as he tried to save her life. She wasn't going to die. He refused to let her die.

He had no idea what time it was when the ambulance pulled up. He moved aside to let them check on her, his arms aching. That alone told him it had indeed been a very long time since he had first started CPR. The sky was darkening already –a frown creased his brows as the paramedics looked over at him and they shook their heads.

"What?" he barked. "Y-you can't give up on her!"

"It's too late son. She's gone."

She was gone long before Dean had even started to try and save her. He stormed over to the Impala, punching her. How could he have failed Andrea? When she needed someone the most. When she needed him the most. He was a failure. He couldn't save his dad, couldn't save Sam, and couldn't even save himself. And now he couldn't even save Andrea. He opened the door agonizingly slow and sat down, head resting against the steering wheel. Useless.

Dean jerked, just managing to stop himself from hitting the floor knees first. He clenched his fists and shrugged his shoulders, physically pushing the nightmare that had been tormenting for weeks aside. He was going to save Andrea. She was _not_ going to die.

XXI

Sam paced anxiously, trapped with Marissa. He knew that Dean and Andrea had done it intentionally but he was furious with Dean. Just because he had saved Andrea the idiot had to go off and sleep with her. And Sam knew –he just knew that she was going to kill Dean. He glanced back at Marissa as she made coffee for both of them. He didn't trust Andrea. And he most certainly didn't trust her alone with Dean. He knew that she had done fine earlier but she had just been tortured by that pagan god and he could've done a number on her brain. But Dean just wouldn't listen.

He didn't have a way to get to the motel either since Dean had left with the Impala. And Marissa didn't own a car. He was a little cautious about it too, in case he interrupted them. He was going to wait a while before rushing over. But rush over he would, he knew that much. He glanced at Marissa again, watching her body language. She could see what was going on with them and she would know the instant Andrea decided to murder Dean. She was relaxed though and apparently comfortable as she made coffee for them.

He was just about to turn away when she stiffened suddenly and the mug fell from her hands. He didn't wait for her to explain. He didn't even bother to ask. He called the cab and within seconds it had arrived and they were speeding off to the motel. It wasn't that far from Marissa's and he arrived shortly.

He rushed to the room, digging his key out. But as it turned out he didn't even have to do that much. The door was wide open and so was the window. He wondered which escape route Andrea had used as he cautiously entered the room. _If_ she had even gone.

Dean was lying on the bed wearing only his jeans. He wondered if Andrea had just killed him or if she had seduced him too. Bitter tears filled his eyes and he clenched his hands, avoiding looking at his big brother. Blood dripped onto the floor slowly, irritating Sam each time.

Once wasn't enough? He hadn't done enough? Dean had to die again and again and again. It was enough to drive him mad. He jerked the blankets over Dean's form. He should have known better than to trust Andrea. He should have just killed her the second Ruby said anything.

He would never forgive her. And he would never stop hunting her.

Sam stiffly rolled his shoulders as he looked around the cave. There was no way he was going to let Andrea alone with Dean. He knew that she would kill him. He couldn't trust her. He wasn't even sure if he could trust Marissa, but he was relatively sure he could. He wouldn't let Dean die again. He wouldn't. Not ever.


	22. Trial of Honesty

The Final Trial

Marissa stepped out of her cave first, realizing she was within a cavern. There was a shallow pool with three bridges leading to the Nightmare Knife which was imbedded in a pile of earth. The dirt appeared to be loose and she could clearly see the purplish glow that surrounded it. She swallowed nervously and stepped into the cavern. There were three exits, the one she had come through and what she could only assume were the same tunnels that Sam and Dean were going to come through. She wondered what they had been through, only realizing that within this cavern she had none of her psychic abilities at all. It was as though they were sealed away.

The only light came from the dagger, giving the whole place a purplish tinge that sent goose bumps up her arms. She was sure that something was wrong here, but she couldn't place it. She looked around worriedly, hoping that Sam and Dean were going to show up. She had gone through her experiences and come out well; she trusted that they would do. It would be horrible if either one of them had failed their test and been left to die. She was certain that that was what this was all about –tests to see who was worthy enough to wield the Nightmare Knife.

She wasn't sure what they were looking for though. There had been very little said about the Nightmare Knife. It just mentioned what its purpose was and why it had been created. Nothing beyond that.

"Your friends will join you soon," remarked a familiar voice. It was deep and it echoed through the cavern, but not nearly as booming as it had been when they had first entered this place.

"Where are we?"

"Wisconsin?" she swore she could hear the smirk in its voice. Whatever 'it' was exactly.

The thing laughed and it echoed around for what felt like a long time. "No indeed not. You are neither here nor there, but someplace altogether different."

"Someplace like the underworld?" she questioned worriedly.

"Most certainly not. Were we to be there we would be locked away forever and those pesky pagan gods would forever be free."

She could see him –at least she was pretty sure it was a he –walking towards her. He was at least seven feet tall and dressed in Roman armor. He even had the classic helmet on, with the red plumes sticking up. She wondered if he had been a commander at some point of the Roman legions.

"Woman," he stated.

Marissa frowned at him, stepping back cautiously. She could hear the water lapping at the shore from behind her and she sidestepped it. "Yes?"

Dean arrived next, looking furious. His whole body was tense and she saw him reach for his gun and turn it on the Roman soldier. The fellow did not shift even an inch as Dean came to stand protectively beside Marissa. She wasn't sure how to tell him that he couldn't touch the dagger because it would kill him. She didn't know what she could tell him. Sam came out next and reacted the same way Dean had his gun out and trained on the Roman solider as he stood on Marissa's other side protectively. She wasn't sure how safe she felt exactly.

"You three have passed the first two tests," he informed them, his voice a flat monotone.

She wondered what he looked like under the armor, who he really was. Who had made him? How was he alive after all this time? Sam and Dean traded wary, distrustful glances as the thing spoke.

"I am the guardian of the Nightmare Knife, sent here many eons ago to guard to the most precious weapon a hunter has ever made. We Romans sailed the world and conquered lands day and night and reigned with peace. We toppled religions and replaced them with out own, scattering the pagan gods and killing those we could find. Some escaped us.

Those that we captured were locked away in the underworld most have forgotten and in time, as the underworld has come to be forgotten, so shall the creatures that reside within it be. However, the only item that can open their prison is this blade." He gestured to the dagger behind him, as he stood in front of the bridges that led to the small island. "Only those who are brave and honest and true, to themselves and others, may wield the blade. Those who are not shall perish.

"You have proven yourselves admirably, but if you wish at any time during this test to sit out, you may. I am not a cold-blooded murderer and I would rather not deprive the world of hunters if I can. Once you choose to sit out, you shall be returned to the surface and forget what lies within. If you are able to take the knife, I will allow you freedom and your memories."

He stepped aside and drew his sword. Marissa felt Sam and Dean tense immediately. He pushed his sword into the rocky terrain and held his hand out, towards the bridges.

"Hunters, stay your weapons and take your places. I kill no one."

Marissa moved before either of them could stop her and took a step onto the wooden platform. She swallowed tightly, uncertain of how deep the water was. She was certain it was only shallow.

Sam and Dean followed her lead slowly, both of them putting their guns away and looking like chagrined children as they did so.

"How do you know we're hunters?"

"Because the Romans created hunters when they took over Greece. The Olympians were ferocious and angry and our gods were too under developed to protect the Romans. And so, we forged a weapon so mighty that not even Samuel Colt was able to replicate. And we attacked and destroyed those we were able. You humans may think that all we ever did was change the names to the deities, but you would be wrong. _We_ replaced them."

"What are you?" Dean demanded shortly.

"I am Jove, lord of justice and guardian of this knife you know as Nightmare Knife. Once it had a more different name and purpose and many hunted it for it, now you are the first hunters I have seen in several centuries. The world is a changed place indeed."

"You're a pagan god then!" Sam snapped.

"Yes and no. I am the last of the Romans, tied to this place by this blade. When the wielder claims it I shall be freed and sent to Tartarus where the rest of my kind waits. Please, progress to the knife for the final trial."

"You'll die," Marissa gasped, shuffling cautiously towards the knife. Sam and Dean walked over to the blade effortlessly. She could sense their disapproval. It was supposed to be a good thing that this god was going to die.

"You understand the origin of your kind, even if you are not aware of it. Hunters rose and fell with the Romans; now you are a scattered and independent lot. Scattered and alone you do not stand a chance, together you could bring the world to your feet."

"We don't want the world!" Dean snapped, looking appalled at the idea.

"The world is indeed a different place if humankind's greed is so little." Jove paused, turning his head to the side. "Or perhaps you are just a tremendous human. It does not matter. Are you three ready?"

"Yeah," Sam sounded almost bored.

"Get on with it."

"Yes."

"Sam, since you spoke first. Why are you so hard on Marissa?"

Marissa stiffened eyes wide and looked over at Sam. There was no escaping this. Either the answer or the question. Sam looked over his shoulder towards Jove as though he were unimpressed with the question. He sighed softly. Dean shook his head.

"Because it's fun to pick on her, why else?"

Silence reigned for a moment and Marissa allowed herself to relax.

"You may touch the dagger."

Sam frowned and then shrugged; he cautiously set his hand upon the hilt. It was quiet sound, like bacon sizzling and with a yelp Sam jerked his hand back as though it had been burned.

"You have lied." Jove's words boomed, echoing around the cavern like thunder crackling in the sky. "Dean may try next. Why must you save Andrea?"

Dean laughed as though it were the easiest question in the world. "I want to sleep with her, she's hot and it'd be a shame if she died."

"You may touch the dagger."

Dean glanced at Sam who was blowing on his hand –it didn't look injured but Marissa was sure it had to be –and set his hand on the hilt. The same noise again occurred and Dean jerked his hand back just as fast as Sam had.

"You have lied as well. Marissa."

"Y-yes?" she jumped.

"Do you love Sam?"

She blinked, turning bright pink and carefully avoiding the men's gazes. "Yes," she repeated softly. "I do…"

"You may touch the dagger."

Sam and Dean shared an annoyed look as though jealous of Marissa's question. She anxiously set her hand upon the blade, hoping that it didn't hurt. And it didn't. There was a pop and she could see the edges of sparks flying from around it, but they didn't hurt. She pulled her hand back nervously.

"You have told the truth." There seemed to be something like pride in Jove's voice and it made Marissa beam delightedly.

But she had to remember that if Sam or Dean touched the dagger for a third time that it would kill them. She hoped that they would take the option to sit out for this one.

"Sam, would you ever leave Ruby for Marissa? Romantically speaking."

"W-what? I- no. No I would not."

Dean shot an annoyed glance at Sam and then an apologetic one at Marissa. She stepped back shyly, looking at her feet. She should have known that would be Sam's answer. She was just a girl, a high school girl not a woman. And there was a significant difference in that apparently, but here where it was a test of honesty, she could not escape the truth and neither could Sam.

Jove nodded his head and Sam placed his hand upon the hilt once more. This time he snarled and withdrew his hand –Marissa could see a nasty looking burn spreading up his arm.

"I'm not even romantically involved with her!" Sam spat. "I'm just using her –your question doesn't apply."

"It was asked and you have answered with a lie Samuel Winchester. You may withdraw and spare your life if you would rather."

"Spare his life –what do you mean by that old man?" Dean barked.

"Have you not figured it out? Look at your companion."

Marissa saw it. It wasn't just a burn. It was how tired Sam appeared. The knife was either attacking his soul and ripping it, or the barriers placed around it were using Sam's energy against him. Dean seemed to realize it too.

"Sammy you should sit out for this one…"

"No Dean."

"Sam –"

"I said no Dean!" he growled, holding his arm close.

Dean appeared to be on the verge of tackling Sam into the water and Marissa set her hand on his forearm to try and bring him back. She would figure out a way to keep Sam from answering the next question.

"Dean, what is the point of taking your frustration out on your companions?"

"What?" Dean looked almost completely startled by the question. "I don't do that!"

Marissa blinked and looked at Dean disbelievingly. He did it _all_ the time. He couldn't really be unaware of it. And he knew that this was a trial of honesty so why on earth was he even lying? He set his hand on the hilt and his reaction was the same as Sam's. Although Marissa thought that the burns he had might be a little worse than Sam's. She wondered if it had something to do with the degree of burn that they received.

"Marissa, how is it that the angels have made you feel guilty?"

Sam and Dean both turned to look at her and she cringed beneath their gazes. "T-they haven't," she replied morosely. "I just don't want to lie and would rather blame it on them because they have put me in this position."

"What do you mean Marissa?" Dean growled. "What have you been lying about?"

Sam almost looked like he was ready to kill her. Marissa set her hand on the knife and felt the second barrier give way to her and she slowly withdrew her hand. She knew that Sam was going to be asked something next and there had to be a way to keep him and Dean from touching the knife. There had to be.

"Sam, why do you not trust Andrea?"

"'Cos she's an evil conniving bitch," Sam retorted. He paused though, looking at the hilt hesitantly. "I don't want to touch it…"

"You do not have to Samuel, no one is making you. Dean, tell me about that strip club."

"Uh, which one?" Dean smirked confidently.

"The male one."

His smirk was gone in an instant. "T-that was an accident! An accident!"

Sam laughed, "Wow you know Dean you don't have to lie."

"Shut it Samantha!"

Marissa covered her smile, knowing full well that the Winchesters were safe. Except that Dean reached over and set his hand on the stupid blade. It didn't kill him. It just popped and fizzled. The next moment Dean had fallen over and was clutching his stomach, Sam at his side. Worry and panic slammed into Marissa, and she wished she could go over to them and offer some comfort. Anything.

"Marissa May Faith, describe your time in the entertainment industry."

Marissa stiffened immediately, watching Sam and Dean as they turned towards her. Dean appeared to be fine, actually better than Sam as the burns on his arm had been healed. She didn't know quite what to say. She bit her lip anxiously and turned away hastily to stare at the knife.

It was the knife that she told, she told herself. It was to the knife she spoke.

"I danced… f-for men's enjoyment," she spoke quietly.

Neither Sam nor Dean said anything for a moment and she hoped that perhaps they had not heard anything. But the inevitable happened when Dean opened his mouth.

"Hey Sammy, now's your chance for a lap dance," he snickered.

"Don't encourage her," he replied curtly.

Marissa turned bright red and set her hand on the hilt. The final barrier gave way and she drew the blade from the mound of soft earth.

"I have never known any hunter to be as dishonest as you two!" Jove's voice boomed and all three of them whirled to look at the pagan god. "It is a shame, a plague upon your people that you must now use a child to fight your battles! For she has proven herself worthy in honesty while you two fail!"

"Marissa get down!" Sam ran to her as Dean took off after Jove.

She didn't know what happened until it was too late. Sam's arm went around her waist and he leaped clear off the island, with her, and into the water. That wasn't quite as shallow as she had imagined. She latched onto Sam immediately, feeling him falter as her fear grew. The roof that she had been standing under a moment ago collapsed, rocks smashing down onto where she had been just a moment ago.

"Marissa-"

She whimpered, feeling Sam trying to move her off him as he had to keep afloat. She clung tighter to him, terrified of the black water beneath her swallowing her up again. If Sam had to swim here it was going to be way too deep for her to do anything. She would die here. A gunshot echoed around the cavern noisily and stunned Marissa enough to loosen her hold on Sam. He was able to detach her from his body and keep himself afloat.

"Hey Marissa its okay, I'm right here."

She barely heard any of what he was saying, her eyes widening as she kicked her legs futilely in the water, trying to keep her head above the water, arms flailing. Sam seemed to realize what was wrong and he shouted out, presumably for Dean.

The purplish glow from the knife hadn't faded any and in order to keep herself above water, Marissa's arms were flailing as she started to cry and panic. She didn't know what to do or how to do anything. She knew Sam was yelling at her but she couldn't hear him, she had no idea what he was shouting about.

She was sorry she had even thought about saving his life. She didn't know what she had ever done to piss Sam off this much, but evidently she had done something awful if his whole plan had been to kill her after she got the dagger. He hated Andrea; maybe he was doing it in hopes to see her die. It didn't matter anymore.

Her legs grew tired and her arms exhausted and she gave a few desperate thrashes, starting to sink just as she had last time. She took a breath as her head dropped under the water, she tried a few more times to kick to the surface, to get free of the watery doom that clung to her and dragged her down….

She couldn't hold her breath any longer and released it, the water surging into her as she tried to take a breath but only inhaled water. Her lungs were burning once more and she was so alone. A little girl with her glowing purple knife. Blackness began to swamp her, subduing her and carrying her away from what she knew.

XXII

Sam waited as long as he possibly could. He couldn't just dive after her before she was unconscious or she would start flailing and stab either him or herself. He had to be sure she was unconscious. He saw her exhaust herself, her big blue eyes wide with fright and panic as she cried and struggled to stay afloat. If he'd known she couldn't swim and was afraid of water, he would have been more cautious about throwing her into the pool but he really had no choice. It was that or get crushed by rocks and at least this way she had a better chance of survival.

He watched the purple glow as it sank deeper and saw her movements completely stop. He waited a moment longer and glanced at Dean to make sure he was ready if Sam needed help and Marissa came back to. It was dangerous –if either of them got stabbed by that knife they were toast. Or rather their souls were. Sam dove underwater and swam to Marissa as she slowly floated further away, her dagger the only reason he was even able to find her. He kicked long and hard and grabbed her by her wrist and started kicking back up towards the surface –she was still unresponsive. He broke through the water, with a relieved gasp as he hauled her out and handed her to Dean who was waiting on the wooden bridge.

Dean grabbed her carefully and hurried to the rocky ground where he had set aside their coats so that she would have a place to dry off. They hadn't had a chance to light a fire yet, but it was next on their list. Sam hauled himself out of the water and raced over to where Dean was looking after the young woman. He'd started doing compressions already and with a cough and a splutter Marissa spat the water out, working on sitting up.

Dean had already moved the dagger out of her way so if she did do anything unpredictable, no one was going to be seriously hurt. Marissa sat up and grabbed onto Dean, burying her face against his chest as she started to sob. Sam could see her trembling from where he stood, unsure if he should even approach her. Dean looked at Sam with wide eyes, uncomfortably patting Marissa's back. Sam quietly stepped closer, wrapping his coat around her. She wouldn't even look at him.

The brothers shared a long look.


	23. Lover's Quarrel

Lover's Quarrel

Marissa was surprisingly adept at avoiding Sam and refusing to talk to him. If he didn't know Dean as well as he did, he would have said that Marissa was a master at avoiding things she didn't want to talk about. But it might have just been a woman's thing. That's what Dean kept telling him anyways. With Jess their fights had never been serious and it was a hug and kiss make-up every time. He didn't usually end up pissing off women in his experience –Dean however had plenty of experience in that category.

It was the third night since they'd had the knife. And Marissa was learning how to fight from Dean. Sam felt a little… lost without having that routine. He didn't go anywhere near them to watch, knowing that his presence would have just been a detriment to her learning. And she had to learn, seeing how she was the only one who could wield it. She wouldn't let either Sam or Dean touch it.

Lately he had been cautious about even eating in the same room as her. Yesterday morning she waited in the Impala and Sam had figured that she just needed a moment or something. Instead, she stayed there the entire time and Dean bought her some nut and fruit mix thing that Sam was shocked to see him even spend money on at the next gas store they came to. And he gave it to Marissa without a word.

Sam felt very out of the loop, as though there was some big secret that Dean was in on and he wasn't. He wasn't sure what to make of it either, especially considering how Marissa seemed to be getting closer to Dean. Sort of like best friends and a little like Dean was the big brother that she never got to have.

Sam sighed and shut his laptop, looking out the window towards the direction Marissa and Dean had gone. He really wanted to see how her self-defense training was going. He wanted to see how much she had learned and retained.

He clenched his hands in frustration –he hadn't known that she couldn't swim! It wasn't even his fault! And she was holding it against him, treating him like a diseased animal that would kill her the first chance he got. He hadn't known. It was throw her in the water or let her be crushed by rocks.

He scowled and opened his laptop again. Well screw her.

XVIII

Marissa struggled to keep up with Dean's rigorous pace. He wasn't as patient as Sam was, or as gentle, but he refused to actually attack her. He kept on the defensive as she pressed against him, trying to get an attack on him. It was especially more considering that she couldn't see what he was going to do, but she had a vague sense of what he was going to do before he did it. It didn't help much.

Marissa charged: jabbing with the fake knife Dean had managed to procure for her. She was determined to get at least one hit on him today but she wasn't expecting to succeed. Dean effortlessly blocked her jab, returning to his previous position. He was wearing a cocky grin as though he simply knew that she couldn't beat him and he held his arms at his back –but he was still able to block her attacks. Every single one of them.

"What am I doing wrong?" Marissa finally demanded, frustrated.

"Nothing, I'm just better than Sam. It's not a big deal. I'd be really impressed if you managed to hit me," he chuckled. "I might have to start practicing or something."

"Those cheeseburgers finally getting to you?" she teased, attempting to land a blow on him.

Dean smirked and caught her wrist gently before releasing her hand just as her other fist flew towards him. He effortlessly disarmed her and then trapped her arms at her side. She attempted to kick him but he shifted his body so that she was helpless in his grasp. She gave up fighting, completely relaxed. Well mostly; it was a little uncomfortable with her arms trapped in front of her and Dean behind her. She wished it was Sam though…

Dean released her, smiling brotherly at her. "You'll improve."

"You keep saying that but… I'm not doing any better Dean. At this rate I'm just going to be a burden."

"You won't be; trust me."

Marissa sighed and nodded, stretching. She was done for the day, exhausted. She needed to go back to the motel room and have a nice long hot shower. She needed to use up all the hot water before Sam could get any. It would give her a little satisfaction. Well actually just the idea would give her enough satisfaction. She would only use about half the hot water. She liked having long showers, but not that long of a shower.

"Ready to go back?"

She nodded, idly wondering why Dean was being so kind to her lately. It felt sort of like he had taken her under his wing and was protecting her from… Sam? She wasn't sure. But she liked it. It was a nice change from the ache in her chest. She knew Dean wasn't romantic, but it felt like she had been alone for a very long time and it was wonderful to have a friend.

They returned to the motel, Dean teasing her lightly as usual. It was natural and peaceful. She liked it. It was better than wallowing in the pain and fear. She grabbed her nightclothes and went into the shower, ignoring Sam. She refused to acknowledge his presence until he had apologized to her.

She shut the door behind her and started the shower up.

XVIII

It was bad enough that Dean used up all the hot water when he could but if Marissa did once more, he was not going to be able to be held accountable for his actions. As soon as Dean had left to go and get dinner, Sam locked the door shut and debated on shoving a chair under the knob for good measure. It would be too obvious; she would see it and he didn't think that Dean would be back that soon however loyal he was feeling towards Marissa.

He was sick of her behavior. It wasn't _his_ fault what happened!

XVIII

Marissa got out of the shower and dried off, making sure to have left some hot water behind. She wasn't sure how much, but at least there was some. And anyways, it would be more than enough for the men to use. Men were supposed to have short showers anyways. She changed into her pajamas –she had no plans tonight other than sitting around watching some television. She had worked hard enough she deserved to have a reprieve from everything that was going on. Whether she could afford it or not at this point, did not matter.

She dried her hair off and tied it back so it was out of her way. She stepped out of the shower and stiffened, realizing that she was alone with Sam. She had been blocking him out of her visions lately so she hadn't been expecting to see him. But there he was, standing between the two beds with his arms crossed. She could sense impatient energy rolling from him –it had been building up over the last few days but she hadn't really expected him to confront her.

She'd expected him to apologize for nearly killing her.

"So what would you have preferred Miss Psychic?" he demanded bitchily. "Being crushed by rocks or drowning?"

She stiffened, looking away from him. She was going to ignore him until he apologized and not a moment later.

"I don't know what your problem is! I saved your life!" He seemed to be waiting for her reaction but she refused to give him the satisfaction of it. He moved, following her as he tried to stand in front of her. "Sure, you had to drown but if you'd listened to me or even calmed down for a second I could have got you to shore safely. Or do you not trust me? Huh Marissa? What is it?

"Because honestly I don't know what your issue is. You follow after me like I'm some perfect friggin' god. And then what? You find out I'm real, that I'm human and suddenly you're not interested anymore?"

Marissa inhaled sharply, swallowing tightly. She refused to give him the satisfaction of a response, her lips drawing into a thin, tight line.

"Oh I hit a nerve didn't I?" She didn't have to see the smirk to know it was there. She stepped aside, intent to avoid him, already regretting her girlish fantasy to have him with his arms around her.

"I bet I did. I bet that you just really want to be in love with the _idea_ of who I am and not who I really am. Did your heart get broken or something?"

She didn't know what got to her first. The fact that Sam seemed to honestly have no idea of how scared she had been that she had nearly died and he was more concerned with the fact that he'd saved her from one death to throw her into another? Or that he honestly thought so little of her, that she was some silly little school girl that knew nothing.

Her shoulders dropped and she shuffled over to the bed, focusing on not hearing him. She didn't have to listen to him. Especially not when he was saying useless things. But that didn't stop her from hearing what he had to say.

"You know what? You should just grow up and get over it."

She swallowed tightly and instantly regretted having chosen to head to the bed. She turned away and swiftly walked to the door, trying the handle. It had been locked –Sam had planned that ahead of time. She twisted the lock and found his large body pressing her smaller one against the wall.

"You're just a coward," he hissed.

Marissa felt her lower lip tremble and she shut her eyes tightly so she didn't have to see him. So she could pretend that he was someone else. And maybe he was right; maybe she just wanted the idea of Sam. The idea of an imperfect yet still perfect Sam, which made no sense, but was who she wished he was. Because this wasn't the Sam she had come to help.

XVIII

The doorknob shook as Dean tried to jostle it open. It was only a moment later that he was unlocking it. Sam pulled back and away, moody and dissatisfied with the lack of a reaction he had gotten. Dean carried two take-out bags, one large and one smaller one. He grabbed the smaller one, about to pass it to Marissa only to realize that she had taken off pass him about the second she had the chance to.

He looked at Sam irately. "What've you done now?"

"She won't even look at me! Or acknowledge that I just saved her life!"

"You nearly killed her!" Dean retorted, somewhat amused.

"I saved her life," Sam argued.

"And then you drowned her Sam, you're not going to win this. You haven't even apologized to her for nearly killing her."

"She hasn't even thanked me for saving her," he growled.

"Sammy… she's a woman. You're gonna have to apologize first and then you'll be lucky if you get a thank you back. When has anyone ever thanked us anyways?"

Sam scowled and looked away.

"What?" he inquired, knowing that there had to be more to this than Sam was letting on. "Don't tell me… Sam you _did not_ just intentionally chase her off did you?"

His brooding silence was answer enough.

"Sam, why?"

"Because I'm a monster Dean!" Sam growled. "And she's too pure, too good for me to even _touch_. To even think about touching. It's better for her if she just… gets over her stupid crush. It would kill her to be with me."

Dean glared and went to say something but his brother cut him short.

"She's great, I'm sure but she is not for me! Maybe a few years ago or something but I am not going to corrupt that girl. She needs to go home and settle down with a man her own age who can take care of her." Sam looked at Dean pleadingly, trying to get him on his side. "I won't be the one to corrupt her, to destroy what innocence she has. If I have to break her heart to do it, then I will. Better that than the alternative."

"Y'know Sam… maybe it would be different if you thought of her as being in love with you…" Dean sighed and turned away. He caught sight of the leather sheath, glowing faintly purple and he cursed. "And you just chased her away when there's a fucking god after her!"

He raced off to try and find her. He didn't have time to wait for Sam, especially since he was sure Marissa hadn't just fled to hide somewhere in the halls. He was pretty sure that she would have run with the intention to get as far away from Sam as she could.

He looked for her, where it was conceivable that she could have been hiding. She was nowhere in sight. He cursed again. Hypnos was two up on them now and they didn't even know where to find the god. He wasn't sure how much time they had left to find Marissa and Andrea. He knew that he wasn't going to let either of those two die though. And when he had enough time, he was going to have to beat some sense into Sam. Dean could only hope that they would be able to find them soon.

* * *

_Poor Sammy, jealous, addicted and frustrated are a very terrible mix. _

_I'm sorry for those of you so eagerly waiting for Sam to just move on and get with Marissa; he just keeps on fighting it. To be fair, I did not mean for this chapter to go this way. It was supposed to be a fluffy cute make-up one, but instead went down this path._

_So... although I should be doing my English essay which is due tomorrow and using academic resources... I'll just let it be... because I want to write. I'm working on the next chapter as I type. If that makes any sense. _

_Please let me know what you think! _


	24. Capture

Capture

Marissa felt like she had just been beaten half to death. She blinked awake exhaustedly, her eyelids heavy. She was positioned opposite Andrea, just able to see her. She could see that Andrea was tied to a stake, her arms and legs bound behind her so that she couldn't move. She was wearing a rust colored dress that flapped in the breeze –but she looked okay. She looked just fine. Panic bubbled up in Marissa. She didn't know what that meant, what Hypnos needed Andrea for beyond opening up the gate to Tartarus.

She tried to move and realized that she couldn't. She'd been securely bound to the post in the ground, her feet unable to touch the ground. The ropes dug into her flesh the more she tried to move and she knew that if she moved much more that they would start to cut the circulation to her limbs. She took a deep breath of air to keep herself calm enough.

She looked around, seeing three other people tied up in the same way. The five of them were arranged in a circle and between them were lines drawn in the dirt and lined with some mixture of herbs she couldn't identify. She frowned, knowing that something with this arrangement was wrong and she followed the lines that intersected each other in a specific pattern, trying to tell what the overall image was supposed to be of. Her eyes widened when she realized what the shape had to be. She strained, trying to make sure that the shape really was a pentagram.

The only other thing it could possibly be, was a circle and that didn't seem very likely especially with the direction that each line had been drawn, connecting everyone. Diagonal to Marissa was Andrea. There was a brunette to her left and to her right was a black haired young woman –both of them looked absolutely terrified and clueless. And furthest from her was a redheaded woman who looked feisty and angry. At a guess, Marissa was willing to bet that the woman was a hunter.

Between all five of them she couldn't tell what the connection was supposed to be. She was a psychic. Andrea wanted to be a demon. The redhead hunted demons. Was either the black haired or the brunette a demon? Was the other completely clueless? And if they were, why?

Marissa opened her mouth to say something and realized that there was something preventing her from speaking. That something was not a gag or anything physical but something completely different. It was something in the air, in the atmosphere that kept her silent and she wondered if it had a connection to opening Tartarus's Gate. She did know that she didn't want to know.

And then, the one person she had hoped to never see again walked into the pentagram. Richard. Or, at least, it was the body of Richard. A ghost from her past coming back to torment her…

"Oh my, so the gang is here all together," he chuckled delightedly, a distortion in his voice making it a little higher than usual. It was actually a little bit of a relief that he didn't sound _exactly_ like Richard had. Hypnos was something else entirely.

He carefully walked around, peering at all of the gathered women. He was always careful of where he stepped so that he didn't disturb the lines in the ground. He nodded contently at each one. Andrea met his gaze and Marissa realized that her friend had been gagged, a smile tugged at her lips. Leave it to Andrea to still challenge the monster even after she had been beaten and gagged. Marissa was sure that Andrea had suffered that at least. Hypnos looked at the hunter and she spat at him, fighting her bonds as she tried to attack him. The pagan god laughed and walked over to the two innocents, circling them before wandering over to stop in front of Marissa.

"Well, hello there," he grinned. "Long time no see… sis."

Marissa glared furiously. He had no right to call her that –Richard had never had the right to call her that. From this two-faced bastard he had even less of a right to do it.

XXIV

With a few phone calls to Bobby and an angel they were able to locate where Marissa and Andrea were. It was a few hours drive away and they took turns, each of them getting a few hours sleep as they practically sped down the highway to get to them in time. They didn't know what Hypnos would do with them, but at least they had the Nightmare Knife. All they had to do was get it to Marissa somehow…

Marissa didn't know how to fight with a knife, but she was the only option they had. Cas and Bobby had both told them the same thing –unless they were moving the knife with a pair of iron tongs, then they would have their souls ripped to shreds by it. There was no other choice for them, as much as Dean would have preferred to kill Hypnos. He was sure it was the same for Sam, especially considering his noble pledge to not corrupt Marissa.

There was no way that Marissa could ever continue on as innocent as she was, and eventually someone else would come along and corrupt her. Sam just hadn't realized that. He also hadn't decided that it would be better if he did it, because at least he would be able to keep Marissa safe. It would come though, soon, Dean was sure. That realization couldn't be very far off though, even if Sam didn't know it and was determined to defy the pull he felt to Marissa.

Dean stopped the Impala in the cover of some bushes, getting out. Sam was awake the minute the engine had shut off. Dean grabbed the bag that the knife was concealed in, tossing it to Sam. Today Dean would be acting as the distraction while Sam got to Marissa. No matter what, that was the only plan they had. Dean couldn't stop to save Andrea if they wanted to save the planet.

He looked over at Sam who nodded and together they set off at a jog to rescue the women. A scream shattered the silence and the Winchesters ran a little faster. Dean hoped it wasn't Marissa because without her their chances of saving Andrea were slim. He didn't really want it to be Andrea either but there wasn't anyone else it could be.

They came to an empty clearing, in the distance the shadow of a small shack could be seen. They cautiously made their way up the small hill covered in dead grass and what they saw made them freeze temporarily.

There was a large pentagram carved into the dirt and at each point of the star was a wooden post. Marissa was the only one left tied to the post, looking pale and scared. Dean couldn't see any obvious signs of the pagan god and he headed down the hill, heading to the shack. He looked around as he darted past a stunned Marissa, unable to break the lines at all, he left that to Sam to deal with as he headed towards the shack.

Dean raced to the shack, not even hesitating as he kicked the door open. He probably would have done better to help Sam with Marissa but they couldn't risk having Hypnos charge down on them while they were getting ready. Inside was an average sized man with a large black door at the end of the shack. There was only one door _into_ the shack however. And on a flat cot was Andrea, looking pale as Hypnos carefully took some of her blood and added it to the gate to Tartarus.

The man looked over at Dean, short blonde hair framing his face. He smiled, baring his teeth. "Well hello Mr. Winchester."

"Let her go," he growled, knife in hand. It wouldn't do anything but it might knock him out of the body he was in. To Andrea's side he could see three bodies –it wouldn't take him any time at all to swap from the body he was currently in. But it might buy them enough time.

"D-Dean," Andrea gasped. "Go."

She wanted him to go? Well that wasn't going to happen.

"You know it won't work," smirked Hypnos.

Doesn't mean I can't try, he thought to himself as he threw the knife. Andrea struggled against the bonds that kept her bound to the table, unable to get free.

Hypnos grabbed it out of the air, his vessel bleeding. His hand was sliced completely open and he turned the knife around in his hand and Dean drew his gun, shooting him all in one fluid motion. He fired half of his bullets into the bastard, all neatly imbedded in his heart or lungs. Blood spilled out of his broken chest and he just smiled dementedly, eyes glowing with a fervor of some kind.

"You're trying to free the psychic, I know, and you think that _this_," he gestured to his chest, "will stop me? No, it won't. And it's such a shame for the world… Goodbye Dean Winchester."

He advanced, turning the knife over in his hand and throwing it at Dean. Dean darted to the side and into Hypnos's tackle that might have sent him to the ground if the host had been built like a football player. He was just a light-weight, well wired guy, and nothing compared to the sheer muscle that Dean had on him. He shoved the guy down, elbowing him in his gut. He coughed up blood, and likely part of his lung as Dean proceeded to beat him. He had no other goal other than to just distract him. He trusted that Andrea would be fine –

Hypnos was still a pagan god when all was said and done though and he stared up at Dean, light blue eyes bearing into Dean's. Dean tried to look away, realizing that he was unable to. Hypnos was the god of sleep and as Sam had warned him on their way here, they were both exhausted and vulnerable to Hypnos's powers. He could hear Andrea shouting at him, no doubt furious that he was deciding to take a nap right here. He was a little angry at himself too but he could practically feel the weight of sleep and exhaustion bearing down on him. His eyes drifted shut and he was asleep in a second.

XXIV

"Andrea's in there!" she growled the second Sam crossed the pentagram lines. She struggled against her bonds, this being the first time she could speak. She saw the black bag in his hand and knew that the knife had to be in it. She wasn't ready to kill Hypnos –she barely knew how to use a knife. She'd had maybe three days of practicing with a knife.

The minute she'd seen Sam her anger for him had diminished. It was her own fault for running off and getting captured, she should have known better. A part of her was glad that she hadn't stayed with Sam and Dean –if she had there was no telling what might have happened to them.

"Dean'll save her," Sam replied confidently as he worked on undoing the knots.

"He killed the others," she whispered, relaxing.

"Dean will save her," he repeated as he worked steadily on freeing her hands.

Marissa sighed with relief as her hands were freed. She stepped away from the post, grateful for the relief. Sam held the bag out to her and she reached in, pulling the sheath-less knife out. It was in the shape of a flame, like one you would expect to see in a cartoon, and it was purple with the consistency of a flame. She could see it flickering, as though it were a real flame. Black 'fire' ate along the edges of it, making it appear menacing.

"Let's go," Sam urged, heading off towards the shack.

Marissa followed clumsily, her legs numb and awkward after having been tied up for so long. Sam dropped back, taking smaller and slower steps as he helped her up the hill.

"You can do this Marissa," he murmured softly. "You can do this."

"Thanks," she smiled shyly at him, glancing at him uncertainly.

"I'm sorry… for… almost drowning you."

Marissa was quiet for a moment as they crested the hill, her will resolving. This could be her last moment with Sam. She could die, and his future would be vastly different. She could also live, she knew that, but she was scared. And there was something she wanted to do before she died.

"Thank you, for saving me," she moved quicker than she had expected, standing on her tiptoes to brush her lips against Sam's.

Sam jerked away. "You're not dying," he growled, eyes on her.

Marissa blushed and looked away. She didn't regret it. "So I can only kiss you if I'm going to die?" She made her way towards the shack.

"Well, no… But it's like your dream right? So… it seems like you're getting ready to die."

"If I died, I wanted to at least say that I got to kiss the guy I've been dreaming about."

Sam paused and sighed, shaking his head. "We'll talk about this later."

They hurried towards the shack. Marissa felt kind of silly about it, but she had wanted to kiss Sam at least once in reality. She'd done it more than enough in her dreams, but never –until now –in reality. Sam rushed into the shack, Marissa following him.

Dean was sprawled out on the floor, unconscious and Andrea was strapped down to a cot. Her breathing was shallow and Tartarus's Gate pulsed in time with the Nightmare Knife, flickering purple along the edges in reaction to the knife. Hypnos grinned gleefully, turning to her.

"Damn it Dean," Sam muttered, he glanced at Marissa and charged towards Hypnos.

Marissa started forward, following him. Hypnos shoved him back and it was hilarious, in a rather morbid way, to watch as Richard all of five foot eight tackled Sam to the floor. It left her with a clear shot however and she slashed at his unprotected side.

With a whoosh that only Marissa could sense, Richard fell off of Sam. Dead. Sam got to his feet and seemed relieved. Marissa looked over to the bodies and the brunette got to her feet with that sick grin that Hypnos wore.

"I won't let you kill me, I know everything you're going to do before you do," he/she smirked. "Your powers _cherub _are lovely." The brunette charged, using her unnatural speed to knock Sam off his feet. "And so delightfully enhanced.

"I've had pleasure enhancing my powers, Andrea's darkness is wonderful." He/she made their way over to Sam and knocked him unconscious. Hypnos looked up, grinning at Marissa. "Looks like its just you and me darlin'. Hand over the knife and you can go free."

"What about them?" she demanded, gesturing at the Winchesters and Andrea.

"You can take the Winchesters –I'm not interested in them or what I could buy with them. Take them."

"Andrea?"

"'Fraid not, I've got plans for her." Hypnos smirked and looked over at Andrea. She was conscious and furious, unsurprisingly. "Would you like to kill him now Andie? You can get him before Hades takes you."

"Fuck you," Andrea growled.

"Tut tut Andie, really? I could but I don't have the time right now and I'm sure that your friend here wouldn't much appreciate that at all."

"Bastard!" Andrea snapped, struggling against her bonds futilely. "Let me go!"

He rolled his eyes and although Andrea's mouth was moving, no doubt cursing at him every way that she possibly could, no sound was coming out. "Ah, that's much better. Now, back to our discussion –deal? Take the Winchesters."

It would be so easy to hand the knife over and take them. But she couldn't do that. She couldn't just abandon the world to the horrors of Tartarus for this freak.

Marissa turned the knife over in her hands, noticing the writing on the hilt once more. It was probably Latin –she couldn't read what it said. She just had to stab him –literally stab him, because if he needed to use the knife as a key it must mean that he would be able to use it. She wasn't going to let that happen either. She had promised Castiel that she would give it to him when the time came.

Marissa tightened her hold on the knife. "No."

"You won't take them, or no deal?"

"No deal," she retorted.

"Then I'll kill you. I've seen it."

"Doesn't make it the irreversible truth," she retorted confidently.

"It does. Your puny brain however cannot possibly comprehend it however, but it is the only result of what will happen here. Now surrender and give me the knife."

"I'll kill you first," she snarled, shifting her weight and readying herself for an attack.

"Try it," he spread his arms out.

Marissa took a deep breath and launched herself at him. She didn't have to wonder at why she was doing it, she already knew. She was doing it because it was the right thing to do. Because she was the only one who could do it.

He disarmed her with one hit and with the second he sent Marissa sprawling next to Sam. She looked over at him, wondering how much of a disappointment she would be. Cas had told her to learn knife fighting and because she had failed to justify why, it had been put aside and now she was paying the price. She looked over at the knife, resting just beyond Sam's fingertips. She glanced at him, his eyes shut and a peaceful expression on his face as though he were completely unaware what was going on.

Footsteps echoed and Hypnos grabbed the dagger, snickering. "That was easier than taking candy from a baby," he smirked down at her.

Marissa looked up at him, wishing she had her powers. She would have known what to do then. She may have been relying too heavily on her powers and maybe that was what the whole problem was but she would have given anything to know what the future held at this point. Marissa sat up cautiously, looking at him warily.

He smirked and stepped closer to her, setting the blade right against her neck. She froze, looking up at him. He moved around so he was standing above Sam, offering Andrea a clear view of Marissa as he lightly dragged the blade along her neck. She felt blood trickle down, tears welling up in her eyes. Andrea met Marissa's eyes apologetically, helpless to look away and helpless to save Marissa. Marissa looked at her and mouthed that it was okay. Because it was. She knew that Andrea couldn't save her. She swallowed, heart pounding in her chest.

* * *

_The fluffiness will be coming I assure you of that. Just keep with me to the end :)_


	25. Sweet Dreams

Sweet Dreams

Marissa swallowed uncertainly, bowing her head in submission to Hypnos's will. There was nothing that she could do. She let her eyelids fall close.

"You can't let him win!" she heard Sam bellow and all six foot four of him shoved her out of the way as he tackled Hypnos. His weight and height proved advantageous in accordance to his surprise attack. He wrestled with the pagan god, breaking Hypnos's wrist in order to get the knife away from him without actually handling the knife.

Marissa darted forward, shocked but functioning as she grabbed it. Dean was moving too, working on freeing Andrea. She went to stab him but he was moving already to claim another dead body. She stumbled to her feet and jogged over to the bodies behind Andrea, stabbing them repetitively. She didn't know what else to do, and horror began to spread through her and she was forced to look away as each thud sounded more and more hollow and the bodies beneath her surrendered their unyielding flesh. It was disgusting, but she didn't know what else to do.

Sam came behind her, gently pulling her away. Her arms felt like lead and she didn't want to think about the fluid that she was no doubt covered in. She was breathing harder than she had been aware of, Sam's large hands resting on her shoulders as he looked around their surroundings distrustfully. The black gates of Tartarus had not disappeared and they were still flickering with the Nightmare Knife. There was definitely a shared reaction between the two; she could feel the knife practically buzzing in reaction to the nearness of the gate.

Marissa turned around in time to see the brunette moving again and she lunged, plunging the dagger straight into her heart. She felt something give away beneath her and she could have sworn she heard a scream echoing. As soon as it faded, her powers slammed back into her as though the barrier had only been a part of her imagination. A myriad of images overwhelmed her, tumbling one over another as they slammed into her skull and knocked her back. Sam caught her and kept her from falling onto her back.

A spasm jerked her whole body and she was vaguely aware that Sam had carefully set her down, away from all sharp objects. She convulsed for a second as she fought the stream of images in her mind, pushing them back and picking out the relevant ones before setting them aside as she vainly attempted to organize the visions. At some level, from her trip to the future that she had been granted, she knew that if she didn't at least do this much that her visions would drive her mad.

It was a future she had long since forgotten but now it seemed that there was nothing worse for her to have set aside. It was supposed to happen when she was an adult, not when she had just accomplished something so useful here and now.

A broken groan broke her lips, agony flashing in her skull as a migraine and made its home in the center of her skull. She tried to get her body to respond to no avail, another convulsion seizing her frail form and jerking it all over the place. She gave up and let her body do as it wanted, trying to force the images back behind a wall of some sort.

* * *

_Andrea with a knife-_

_Dean, dead, blood underneath him._

_Sam._

_Sam at her doorstep, furious tears in his eyes and a gun cocked and aimed at her chest._

_Dean, with a sweet blonde and a bouncing baby boy._

_Sam, standing at doorway to hell and turning away, no longer Sam but Lucifer._

_Andrea, running. Always, always running. Her eyes flashed black –_

_Sam would catch her now, he was Lucifer and he would avenge Dean's death. Michael could have been out of the way but now it was time for their battle to take place and rake the earth to ash. But first, he had given the stubborn Winchester his word and he revived Dean. Or he wo-_

_Andrea stood over a grave, tears on her cheeks. Winchester, Dean was engraved on the stone tablet and she clutched his amulet in her hand._

_Dean hugged the blonde, kissing her cheek and waving to the toddler before walking out to the shiny white Honda car. There was nothing to indicate who he was…_

_Sam curled up, crying bitterly trapped within the recesses of his own mind as he witnessed horrible things. As he realized –_

_Andrea stabbed through the heart and dropped into the empty ground._

_Lucifer, wearing the amulet like a trophy. _

_Sam coming back to see her, lost and indifferent. Marissa welcoming him with an embrace._

_Dean leaving his family, in the Impala with the set of a hunter coming back to work like he'd never left._

_Marissa reaching for Sam, meeting a block of ice with a knife protruding through it and past her heart._

_Marissa, unable to feel._

_Sam burning –_

_Dean alone –_

_The blonde crying, clutching a phone as a baby cried in the background._

_Cas, Cas covered in blood and looking like he was falling apart._

_The last seal breaking wide open, unleashing Lucifer, a flash of light disappearing Sam and Dean._

_Sam and Dean presented with a second chance and another mission._

_Sam and Dean, old and laughing as their children started a food fight._

_Andrea at Dean's side._

_No, the blonde at Dean's side._

_Marissa entering the kitchen with food for Christmas, mistletoe hanging at the doorway, the love of her life walking towards her._

_Richard rotting in Hell, being tortured as he turned to become a demon._

_Her children –_

_Dean lying unconscious in a pool of blood barely breathing –_

_Sam convulsing on the floor –_

_Bobby, in a hospital room with curtains drawn, monitors beeping._

_Cas dying._

_Cas walking through a field of dead bodies._

_Sam stabbing Ruby through the heart with Dean, satisfied._

_Dean talking with Andrea –_

_The knife –_

_Cas –_

_S-_

* * *

With a scream Marissa used all of her energy to shove all the visions away from her mind, unable to process them. Like a tidal wave they swept back towards her and she struggled to push them away, fighting tooth and nail. She was going to be with Sam goddamit. She was. She was. That was her future, her hope, the promise of a better world.

_A small thin man was looking at Sam frightened. "W-well of course it's true. How could it not be? Doesn't it explain everything?"_

"_No, it doesn't. I shouldn't –I can't feel like this."_

"_You can't fight it either." It sounded like he was slightly satisfied with that revelation._

"_I have to. I can't do this to her, Chuck, I'm a hunter."_

"_And what, you can't settle down?"_

"_No! I can't. It'll put her in danger."_

"_Well obviously someone up there thought that you needed this. Don't you think so? That at the end of the day, when you go to bed there's someone beside you who knows you better than yourself? Who knows what you've gone through and won't push? She'll just cuddle up to you, wrap her arms around you and tell you that she loves you. Don't you deserve that?"_

"_I –"_

* * *

"_I love you," she murmured as they crested the hill, having just left the shack. _

"_You're a child," he retorted unapologetic. _

"_I love you," she repeated._

"_No, Marissa. I can't."_

"_Why?" she could hear the tremble in her voice. "Why? Why can't I be happy too? Why can't you be?"_

"_I am a hunter and you're –"_

"_A child. Yeah, I know." She looked away bitterly, clenching her hands._

_What was she supposed to do now?_

* * *

_It was winter, the middle of winter. Christmas. This was when she'd seen that Sam had proposed to her, showing up on her doorstep when she thought all hope had been lost. That was what was supposed to have happened. It was New Years and Sam still hadn't come by. She knew that he never would._

_She clutched the bottle of vodka closer, taking the last slurp of the bitter, stinging liquid before shoving the note inside it. She balanced precariously on the edge of the bridge, wobbling. A giddy smile appeared on her face and she let the bottle go first, unable to track its progress. The clock chimed midnight and she dived off the side, plummeting down -!_

* * *

With a whimper Marissa tried to push the visions away, her strength gone. Her whole body ached and she could feel Sam's hands on her, brushing her hair back from her face worried. Who knew that this was how she was going to die? She never would have guessed. At least, to an extent, she would be with Sam in her last moments. Kind of pathetic, maybe a lot pathetic but a welcome thought.

"_Cas, why do I feel like this?" It was her own voice, low and nervous._

"_You don't know yet?"_

_She glanced up at him, her hands locked together. "I need someone else to say it first."_

"_Why?" he tilted his head to the side._

"_Because I don't know if I can believe it. That we're…"_

"_Soulmates? It is true. It was decided at your births, your souls branded uniquely to only recognize the other. You can't deny him any more than he can deny you."_

_Marissa stared at Cas in awe. She knew it was true. She knew it at level that it just seemed to be so completely true, that the rightness of it reverberated through her whole being. _

"_Why won't he see me?"_

"_He is afraid, of himself and you."_

"_I miss him…"_

"_He'll be back. Don't worry about that."_

"_I know… you've been keeping an eye on things, with him and Dean… Could you tell them, that I, I, miss him."_

"_I am not a cellular phone."_

"_If I phone him, he'll hang up. Or he'll answer it and give some excuse so he won't have to talk to me. And Dean's under orders to not say anything to me, but he sort of broke them when he told me that Sam had told him not to say anything. But I know he's doing the same thing to Kora, so he's being a hypocrite. But he's allowed to be, I know that they're just trying to keep us safe but…"_

"_I will let him know."_

"_Thank you Cas… Please, look out for them?"_

"_That's what I do."_

* * *

Darkness grabbed at her, wrestling her as it tried to drag her into its depths. Like the ocean and like her suicide. She would never die for Sam. She would never let herself give up. There was always something to be done, something that she could do. She loved him, but she wasn't totally dependent on him. She wouldn't waste her life away pinning after him when the reality became that he would never be apart of her life. She would move on as best she could and live.

Sudden lightness flared inside her, banished the darkness and giving her the strength to put her visions back into order and place them where they needed to go. It was a relief to have sudden help; her whole essence ached and felt as though it had just been run over a few times by heavy machinery. She let herself slip away with the familiar light…

She opened her eyes to find Sam looking down at her worried. Andrea was clinging to Dean, face pressed against his chest as she fought her emotions off. Dean looked stricken until he saw Sam relax. Sam helped Marissa up; as though he knew that she was unable to do it herself and kissed her. It wasn't chaste or sweet like her own had been, but something urgent and demanding and unforgiving. His lips pressed against her own and just as suddenly as it had happened he had pulled back.

Dean whooped, no doubt just to embarrass them, and Marissa blushed bright pink. Sam blushed too; she was pleased to see, and smiled shyly at her.

"I'm uh glad that you're awake," he informed her awkwardly.

Marissa smiled slightly and then she started to laugh. And it was quite some time before she was able to stop laughing. It had been too good of a day as horrible as it had been. She couldn't wait to talk to Sam.

Unnoticed, a dark haired figure with striking blue eyes went to the knife and claimed it. He took it with him back to the heavens.

The human's laughter echoed around as they realized that they had averted Tartarus from being opened. And as soon as the knife was gone, the gates had disappeared.

Sam helped Marissa up, almost carrying her as Dean and Andrea made their way out to the Impala. Andrea was limping heavily, resting all of her weight on Dean as he helped her out. Marissa smiled shyly up at Sam and he glanced down at her, patting her on the back. It felt like a congratulations between friends and friends was more than they had been in a while. Or at least it felt that way to her. It felt like that fight was more than just a day ago somehow.

"Why were you awake? N-not that I'm ungrateful or anything…"

Sam smiled softly. "I woke up, that's why. I can't… exactly explain it. But I woke up. One minute I was in this dream that was strangely similar to the trials and I knew it wasn't real but his powers made me feel like they were, as though I wanted to stay when I didn't. I couldn't wake up.

"I remembered what Dean told me about his experience with the Djinn and then my own when Andrea had saved me and," he paused to chuckle weakly. "You stabbed me and I woke up."

"I stabbed you?" she inquired worriedly.

"In my dream, yes. With a silver butter knife, not very effective but I didn't know until I saw your expression."

"Why did I stab you? Or do you just see me as a violent person?" she frowned at Sam.

"I kind of said something that really ticked you off and you went to wave the knife at me, jokingly and I grabbed your hand and made you… stab me…"

Marissa blanched. "Oh."

"I'm… sorry."

There was a certain amount of amusement in that line if she wasn't mistaken. Last night he hadn't even apologized and this time he was apologizing to her for what he did in his dream to fake/dream her? It was nice that he had apologized, but completely unnecessary.

"It wasn't really me though," she offered warmly.

"I thought it was you though."

"I won't hold it against you unless it's a sharp knife," she smiled teasingly.

Sam smiled back slightly and grabbed her hand, stopping her from following Dean and Andrea. She wondered if Dean and Andrea had signaled Sam to indicate that they wanted some time to themselves or something, once again forcing them to be alone. It was okay though, at least. But it was depressing, just a little. They had Andrea back and Hypnos was dead.

Sam gently tugged her close and she obliged, stepping closer. He hesitated before wrapping his arms around her, holding her close. Marissa let her eyes close, completely relaxed against him. _This_ was everything she had wanted. This perfection, of having Sam. Friends perhaps, but she knew there was something between them that connected them. She wasn't sure if they were really soulmates, no matter how perfect it seemed. If that vision ever came true, then maybe it would be true. But it didn't mean that there weren't ways to break soulmates, or circumstances that would keep them apart.

Marissa just knew that _this_, her wrapped in Sam's arms and held close to him was right. This feeling of rightness, or peace and perfection and love.

"I'm sorry about what I said. Earlier, at the hotel. I didn't… mean it."

"You just wanted me to go," she murmured contently. "I know. You don't want me to get hurt and you're a Winchester, if I'm with you I'm liable to die. I understand." She swallowed, hoping that this wasn't the ending. She had just gotten him and he wanted to go.

"Y-yeah… you've really seen everything, huh?"

Marissa hummed an affirmative, nuzzling him affectionately. Sam hesitated before lightly kissing her forehead, his grip on her tightening just a little as he pulled her closer. She knew that this was what she wanted, forever. To be held in his arms like this, it felt so perfect. She felt safe and she felt loved.

She sensed him on the verge of saying something, and she shyly stood on tiptoe, pressing her lips against his. She didn't want him to speak. She just wanted _this_, this moment to never end. It was absolutely perfect.

This was one of the moments that she would always look back on when she missed Sam, when she was alone or in trouble. Not a demon-kind of trouble, just having to pay the bills or having to reject some guy's offer of a date. Because there was only one person who would ever be for her and so long as he wanted her, she was his. She knew that moving on from that would be difficult, if she ever had to, but she would try. She would mope and she would cry, but she would get out of bed every day and do something for herself each day. And eventually, she would never forget Sam, but she would be able to move on.

Sam kissed her back, shifting slightly to press her body against his. Hard muscle and soft flesh met; his tongue prodded her lips seeking permission. She had barely granted it before he was taking it, delving into her mouth. Marissa wrapped her arms around his neck, playfully fighting him for dominance that she would give him to him in the end. Even though she would give it, it didn't mean that she couldn't make him work for it in the end.

XXV

"Andie," Dean murmured softly, brushing her filthy hair back from her face.

Andrea looked at him despondently. He leaned towards her and she turned away. From the corner of her eye she saw him tense, a hardness settling in his gaze he stepped back from her. She knew what she had to do and how she was supposed to do it. The problem was that she didn't want to do it anymore. She didn't want to kill Dean. He had just saved her life. She would destroy Marissa's chances with Sam and she would destroy her friendship and her life. The few things that she had just managed to gather for the first time in her life.

These were people outside of her parent's control. Outside of the demon's control. And she did like it. She liked _living_. But she owed her parents as well. Ruby would kill her, so would Lilith if she failed them now. Lilith was already plotting the end of the world, so what did it really matter? At the end, Sam would say yes and Marissa's heart would still be broken. If Dean died now it would be a faster pain and Marissa would have a better chance to recover.

And as demon maybe Andrea would have a chance to save Dean from some pain or something. She knew that Hell wasn't a nice place for anybody, but if she had to kill him then she might as well just go to Hell with him. She would deserve it. And it would keep Sam from killing her; keep Sam from breaking Marissa's heart just to hurt Andrea. It was probably stupid, but she didn't really care. She just…

Andrea reached over, grabbing Dean's hand and squeezing it slightly to show that she wasn't actually angry at him. She just wanted some space. And she wanted some time to go and shower before she let him kiss her. She wanted to change out of the disgusting dress she was trapped in. She got into the back of the Impala, exhausted, she pulled her legs close to her chest and adjusted the dress as she crossed her ankles. She did care, to an extent right now despite how tired she was.

Dean got in and looked back at her, with a gesture he had her looking out the window where they could see Sam and Marissa making out. She giggled, happy for her friend. She smiled slightly at Dean, and he smirked back at her. She exhaled softly, weaponless and unsure.

* * *

_Okay everyone, the fluff you've been waiting for and the conclusion you've been waiting for... they're coming next. _

_I hope you're not disappointed with Hypnos, I didn't have the heart to do anything else with him and anyways he was never the main point of this story. This story has been about Andrea and what Andrea may or may not do. It's also about Sam and Marissa, of course. _

_There will be fluff for all!_


	26. One Day I'll Fly Away

One Day I'll Fly Away

It felt like a long drive back to the last city but it wasn't really. It was maybe a half hour or so. Dean and Andrea rented two rooms, one for them and the other for Sam. Dean grabbed his stuff and Andrea's and carried them inside, letting Sam take the Impala to drive Marissa. Andrea was surprised to see Dean just willingly give up his car to his brother as he drove Marissa home. She was surprised to realize that she had been found so close to where everything had started. They were an hour away from Marissa's home already.

The first thing she did as soon as they were in the room was go into the shower with a fresh change of clothing. She pulled the dress off and practically jumped into the shower. She wasn't sure how long she spent in the shower, scrubbing dirt and grime and blood off of her skin. She washed several times and tried to comb the knots out of her hair and met with some success. She was not going to cut her hair off though, she _would_ defeat the knots. Just not right now.

She got out and dried off. Her skin had to be bright red from all the scrubbing it had suffered, but she didn't care. She pulled on a pair of shorts followed by a tank top and neatly tied her hair back, ignoring the protests that some of the knots offered. She stretched, brushed her teeth and left the bathroom.

Dean was lying on the double bed, staring at the television. He glanced over at her when she stepped out and, feeling slightly spontaneous and playful, Andrea struck a teasing pose. Dean chuckled and rolled his eyes, feigning disinterest. She knew he hadn't met anyone else while she was gone, he still wanted her. She strutted over to the bed and then past it, bending over to shove her clothes back into her bag. She made sure that Dean got a show out of it, wiggling her hips a little bit and nearly falling over.

He set his hands on her hips, already behind her as he steadied her. She smirked at him playfully and he smiled back, moving back towards the bed and taking her with him. She squeaked, unbalanced and unable to see. She clumsily stepped back, the heel of her bare foot catching his socked toes. He didn't say anything, just simply tossed her onto the bed gently. He moved over her, effectively trapping her to the bed. An arrogant smirk on his face.

"Missed you," she murmured, staring up into his bottle-green eyes. She reached up, running her hand through his short hair and she offered him a smile.

He reached up, taking her hand in his and kissing it tenderly before setting it at her side, his lips claiming hers –both passionate and tender. Andrea would let him do whatever he wanted to do to her, and quite gladly at that. She returned the kiss passionately, wanting more –no, not wanting but needing. She arched her hips, dragging them along his and eliciting a reaction from him. She grinned, catlike and teasingly nipped at his lip, hooking her leg around his waist to bring him closer to her.

Dean groaned softly against her lips, his hips moving with hers. His jeans added plenty of friction, but they soon became more frustrating than pleasurable due to the thin material of her shorts. She broke their kiss, breathless, her eyes on his as she undid his belt and flung it carelessly aside. She eagerly began to work on getting his jeans undone, not wanting to think about the implications that this would mean. She wanted him –that was all that mattered here. It did not matter what was going to happen later because she wanted Dean, here and now, and she knew it in her heart that this was what _she_ wanted. She wasn't doing this because anyone else wanted her to.

"You're thinking too much," he husked, grinding down on her evilly and winning a moan from her lips. He kissed her passionately, doing it once again. She arched her whole body up to meet his, needing more contact.

She set her hands on his hips and started to push his jeans down; he stopped long enough for her to get them past his hips before he started to torment her once more. He was successfully distracting her from her thoughts as his mouth did heavenly things against her neck. His nips always gentle enough that they never left a mark as much as she breathlessly begged him, his sucking never quite forceful enough to leave a mark on her.

She worked on getting his jeans a little lower, using her feet to finally push them past his ankles and somewhere beyond the end of the bed. He pulled back long enough to meet her eyes and kiss her once more. He sucked gently on her lip, lightly setting his hips over her enough that she could _feel_ him. She wiggled her own hips and he simply pressed more firmly against her, trapping her there. She could practically feel his smirk as he pulled the tie out of her hair and let his hands slide down her chest and along her sides. Electric tingles shot up from where she could feel his hands and he slipped them underneath her shirt, kneading just above her hips torturously before pulling her shirt off and throwing it to the side carelessly.

He smiled at her tenderly, "You're gorgeous," he murmured, sucking a mark onto her neck finally, claiming her as his. She was perfectly content with that, to be his.

He kissed down her neck, along her collar bone where he planted another hickey teasingly before moving to give her some attention. He shifted, pressing his hardness against her as he massaged her breasts. She moaned his name, lying back, her back arching.

She set her hands on the waistband of his briefs as he pinned her hips once more and she let her finger hook under the elastic band and gave it a gentle snap. It caused him to jerk and pull back from her with an annoyed glare at her, he slowly grinded down on her. She writhed beneath him, wanting more. She tugged on his briefs and he moved to allow her to continue, as she worked on getting them past his hips and off he simply grabbed her shorts and with a few hard tugs had them flying off the end of the bed as well. His briefs joined her shorts within seconds and he reached over to grab a condom and quickly put it on. Her arms went around his neck as he kissed her and with a single thrust brought them together.

Her body tensed and she moaned lowly with him as he started to move. She lightly sank her nails into his back as he set the pace slow and passionate. He could have been hot and passionate and mercilessly brought her into a haze of pleasure but this way there was something… intimate between them. It wasn't as though she got to see a different side of Dean, though she knew she was, she refused to acknowledge it as such. There was tenderness in his eyes, in the way he held her and the way that he groaned her name against her ear when he thrust. She wasn't foolish enough to think it was love, but she knew it was something more than what most of his one-night stands got to see.

He brought her to a euphoric haze, crying his name out _not_ lovingly, but- lustfully calling his name out as she begged him to give her everything he could. He kissed her, long and slow as she came down from her blissful high. Her movements were no doubt sluggish and sloppy, but probably no less than his own were. She held him close, nuzzling him desperately, not wanting this to be all there ever was between them.

"You're amazing," she breathed out, eyes half lidded.

He smirked, "Course I am," he kissed her tenderly, something dangerously tender communicated through it. She kissed him back, helpless and afraid of that very feeling. "You're not too bad yourself."

She scoffed and gave him a playful swat on his ass, knowing that he was doing it _just_ to get a reaction out of her. It probably wasn't the one he was expecting by the look that had come into his eyes. He kissed her, hot and demanding and unrelenting. She surrendered to him, helpless to fight him and willing to give him whatever he wanted if he wanted this.

He pulled out of her and moved aside, disposing of the condom, he made his way to his bag, grabbing another. He smirked at her playfully and she grinned back. She was totally willing to have him within her once more, to have this day last a little longer. To have Dean a little longer.

He returned to the bed, moving over her once more as he slowly pushed into her. Andrea hummed happily, lightly kissing his lips. They made a good pair, whatever it was that they were doing. She moaned his name, every time he took it from her lips and it was replaced. He teased her, slowing sometimes to a near torturous pace and had her begging for him. She was at his mercy and she didn't mind it one bit. She begged him for more, for him, but she didn't beg him to give himself to her. She was afraid of that; afraid that maybe that was what was in his eyes.

Euphoria settled over the couple, sweat glistening between them, tired and breathless kisses exchanged. Dean remained with her as she hesitantly cuddled up to him, expecting him to be resistant to it or unwilling. Instead he wrapped his arms around her, held her close to his chest. She smiled tiredly and snuggled closer, letting sleep claim her. Willing to set the moment aside, willing to stay at Dean's side, willing to let herself suffer awhile longer. But she knew she couldn't sleep long, and it was her own thoughts that woke her as Dean settled back into bed beside her. Not even fifteen minutes had passed.

She smiled nervously at him and he smiled back, oblivious. Andrea reached over blindly, finding her bag on the floor she pulled it closer as she snuggled up to Dean. Her hand shook and she fumbled through the layers of clothes to find the solid object that she was looking for. Her fingers grazed over the hilt and she wrapped her hand around it, pulling it out of her bag and letting the sheath slide off silently as she exchanged a few lazy kisses with Dean.

Her breath caught in her throat as she looked at him, gazing back at her with trust. With so much trust that it physically hurt. She didn't know what to do, trapped like this. There was just Dean and her here, together. They were two people with expectations hanging over their heads, expectations that they should have been able to forget about. Forget that he was a hunter; forget that she was a freak that wanted to become a demon, something he hunted. But even here, it could not be forgotten.

She kissed him sweetly, her body starting to tremble as she edged closer to him, the knife shaking in her hand. She would be quick, she promised herself. She would sure it didn't hurt. Dean rolled onto his back, inviting her over him. Evening had settled in, no light escaping into their room and the lights were off. Now she could see his silhouette, could feel him underneath her as she moved over him, deepening the kiss as she forced herself to steady and strengthen.

She shifted cautiously, the knife inches above his chest. She was just about ready to plunge the knife into his chest as she explored his mouth when Dean wrapped his hand around her wrist with an iron grip. He leaned over, flicking the light on as he looked up at her. He looked at the knife and then up at her and he forced her arm back a safe distance, straining it a little. She didn't let the pain get to her as she met his gaze.

"So you were going to kill me?" there was a hardness in his voice that made her cringe. She had been about to kill, about to betray him after everything.

"Yes," she mumbled, trying to look away.

He wouldn't let her. "Why?"

"M-my family… if I… If I do this, I can make them proud." She sighed heavily, looking at him despondently. "I don't want to do this, god Dean, I'm sorry. If I don't I'll die. If I do, I'll still die but they'll give me what I want. I can _finally_ make them proud; they'll know that they've done right in raising me. They saved me Dean, I _owe_ them.

"But you-you've saved me too, I know that. In more ways than one, made me see humanity as… decent. All of my life you've been a monster, destroying the ones that _I_ love. Destroying things I love. 'Winchesters are the enemy, kill 'em when you get the chance'. I don't want to Dean, I don't, I really really don't but I don't have a choice and _god_," her voice finally broke as tears threatened to escape her. "I'm _sorry_, I'm so _sorry_."

Sorry wouldn't make it any better, she knew that. Dean knew that she knew it as well. But she wasn't prepared for what happened next. His grip on her wrist loosened and he looked up at her, the hurt and anger gone, replaced by fondness.

"What happens if you don't kill me?" With his free hand he caressed her cheek, seemingly unworried by the knife that was not far away.

"They saved me when I was a child, and brought me up. Demons did." She flinched at the hardness that settled back in his eyes. "My father was horrible, my birth father. I can't… explain it all. But they saved me, gave me hope and a life. And I grew up into that life eagerly, willing to do whatever they wanted. Even killing you. My reward is to become a demon, to save them from facing anymore scorn. If I fail, I will be killed and so will they.

"You think demons are monsters, so they can be. But my family… they _are_ my family Dean. You have to understand that! I just… I want them to be proud of me, to know who I am and to not suffer for it. Please Dean… if-if you have to, you can kill me. That's okay. I'm a monster, I don't want to do this b-but what else am I supposed to do?"

She was crying, tears rolling down her cheeks to drop off her chin. A few rolled rampantly down her neck instead, causing her to shiver. She could barely see Dean's face through her tears. She knew that she was leaving him with no choice –she was a monster and he had to kill her. That was the only answer left between them; because there was no way that he was simply going to let her kill him.

He had his own family to protect too.

He shifted his hold on her wrist, soothingly rubbing her wrist as he moved it back over his chest. He smiled softly up at her. "You're weird, but you've at least got good reasons. Promise me something?"

Too stunned to articulate anything beyond a "w-what?" was all she got out.

"Run. Don't ever stop running –Sam will try to kill you okay?" He smiled amusedly. "Say okay."

"Okay?" a hiccough lodged itself in her throat.

Dean leaned back, calmly moving the knife over his own chest. "Whatever happens, remember that I chose this."

And with that, he slammed the knife down into his own heart. He stiffened under her, his eyes going lifeless as he sagged under her. Andrea leapt off him, horrified.

His eyes were open and lifeless, naked on the bed. She jerked the sheets up his chest, the blood pooling around her knife. She left it where it was, tears pouring down her cheeks she whispered an apology. She could make her family proud… because of his sacrifice. And she didn't even know what she had done to deserve it. She didn't even know if he loved her, or if he just understood her enough and was willing to let himself die for her.

She had to believe that it was because he could relate to her. Trying to prove his worth to someone who was suffering because of it. Maybe he knew that was how Sam felt, if that was really how Sam had ever felt. She didn't know and these thoughts weren't helping anyone.

She trembled, watching the blood stain the sheets underneath him and with a despairing whimper she threw on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, grabbed her bag and took out the back door.

She could never let Sam get ahold of her. Now, they only thing she had to do was get to Lilith for her reward. Those thoughts didn't stop the tears that kept streaming down her cheeks. What else was she supposed to have done? It was her death or his and he had made his choice. Sam would never believe that, and she would never have the chance to tell him that much. She could hear the roar of the Impala as it pulled up and she offered an apology to Marissa before taking off down through the back alleys and to an empty warehouse so that she could start the summoning ritual. She had to summon Lilith first so that she could be given her reward.

Dean… Dean was gone. Marissa would be okay, on her own. She really would. She had to believe that. She started the ritual.

XXVI (An hour and a half earlier)

Sam helped Marissa into her house. It was a little dustier than when she had left it, and she was glad to see that everything was where she had left it. Despite how different everything else was, her home was still the same. She smiled warmly and happily headed inside, looking around her excitement likely palpable. She thanked Sam and took her bag from him, setting it down.

"Do you… want to stay for coffee or something?" she asked hopefully, glancing at him.

She didn't want him to go and she had the feeling that he wanted to go, that this was outside of his realm of comfort. She smiled shyly and it turned into a full beam as he nodded, leaning against the kitchen doorway uncertainly like he had to be doing something but didn't quite know what to do. She giggled shyly, blushing as she started the coffee. He looked so cute like that, unsure and kinda helpless in a place that she was so comfortable with.

"How do I know that you're not poisoning that?" he teased.

"Because I am an amazing cook and I would never destroy food or drink for any reason, intentionally." She looked back at him, smiling slightly. "Where did that come from anyways?"

"Just wondering," he murmured softly.

He moved away from the doorway, making his way towards her, wrapping his arms around her again. He teasingly set his chin on her head, and she squirmed playfully. She felt so much shorter next to him –because she was short, but even more so when he was with her.

Sam shifted, bending down to kiss her and Marissa kissed him back happily, her lips melding against his like they were a perfect match. Sam deepened it, lightly pressing her against the counter as he nipped at her lip. Marissa wrapped her arms around Sam's neck, inhaling his minty scent as he explored her mouth. There was only the sound of their breathing and the steady drip of the coffee maker.

There were only them. Together, bodies pressing close as Sam caressed her tongue with his own, causing several content sounds to emerge from deep within her throat. He pulled back, amusement and delight in his eyes, slightly breathless. Marissa blushed softly, feeling so much more inexperienced as she breathed a little harder than Sam. He trailed his hand down her back and she shuddered, welcoming his touch. He pressed a light kiss to her forehead, his hand hesitantly going lower, rubbing against her hip before settling on her lower back.

"You're beautiful," he murmured quietly against her ear, his voice a little rougher than usual.

Marissa shivered under him, his hands starting to rub into her back. She could feel his energy spreading through her, causing her to practically vibrate with it. Pleasurable tingles shot through her body and to her core the longer he continued. The coffee pot kept on dripping, almost mockingly as it did so. Sam pressed more firmly against her for a second before pulling back, his murky green eyes boring into hers.

"Is… Are you eh, okay with all this?" He seemed uncomfortable once again, like he was off balance and it was cute the way worry furrowed his brows together and uncertainty caused him to shift.

"Of course," she murmured, looking up at him adoringly. "I want this, us."

Sam shifted slightly, smiling softly. "I'm glad." There was something like regret in his eyes and he hesitated once more. "I… don't know if there can be an 'us' though, Marissa."

Marissa cringed. At least… he was being honest and upfront with her. Even if it was for his benefit. "There's an 'us' right now, here in this moment," she replied quietly. "Maybe not long-term Sam, but for right now…"

"I'll break your heart."

"Please, Sam." She was practically begging, her hand finding his and setting it on her chest as she looked into his eyes. "I want this."

"You'll want more."

"Want and need are different, I'll be fine." She hesitated, "Don't you want this too?"

"Of course I do!" he moved closer to her, pulling her hand towards him and squeezing it gently. "I want you."

"I want you too," she stated, staring down at him. "I want to be with you. And I'll be waiting for when you want more…"

"You can't be waiting for me…"

"Sam!" she said sharply. "Could you… just put all those thoughts away? Just for now…?" He looked at her, conflicted. "Can we just be us? Here, where we're alone. I want you, I really, really do and if you want me… why can't we?"

It was a question Sam didn't have an answer to. He kissed her instead, gentle and compromising. Marissa kissed him back happily and he nudged his knee between hers, she shyly nipped at his lip and he parted his lips for her exploration. Curious she delved into his mouth, flicking her tongue against his when the met as he pressed close against her, holding her close against him.

She pulled back for a breath a moment later and Sam chuckled huskily, picking her up. "Where's your bedroom?"

"F-first door on the right, u-upstairs," she stammered, blushing brightly.

Sam smiled softly, tenderly, at her as he started upstairs. He opened the door and carried her inside. She was glad, for once, that her room didn't have a lot of decoration in it. It was a plain room and looked kind of adult like, plain white walls with some pictures of nature on the walls. Sam set her on her queen sized bed. She was glad that she had bought the bed as Sam moved slowly moved over her, kissing her softly.

She let herself be distracted with how he tasted and the way that his lips moved against hers. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. He let his body rest lightly against hers, his hand gliding up and down her side as he allowed Marissa to set the place. She could feel the warmth radiating from him, and he let his mouth trail kisses down her neck as he slid his hand under her shirt, ghosting along her side. She shuddered under him, watching him longingly.

She gasped when he nipped at her neck, shuddering in relaxation in the pleasure of the simple action. He nipped once more, harder and she mewled sheepishly, blushing at the sound she made. She felt him chuckle and he tongued at the mark he'd left behind, caressing her side with calloused hands.

"Sam," she gasped pleadingly, shifting underneath him, _needing _more.

He pressed his hips against hers, kissing her passionately. He stole her breath away, slowly sliding her shirt up. She let him do as he wanted, watching him amazedly. It was only in her dreams that she had ever thought this might happen.

He tugged gently and she sat up obligingly where he pulled her shirt off, setting it aside. She shivered, self-conscious and started to try and cover herself. Sam looked at her, apologetic.

"You sure, you want this?" he murmured, his voice low and husky and that sent shivers through her. She nodded shyly, uncrossing her arms nervously. He smiled adoringly at her. "You're beautiful."

Marissa blushed warmly, smiling softly. No one had ever told her that, in an intimate setting. She smiled softly at him and he pulled his own shirt off, sitting up to face her. Marissa almost gaped –_almost_ –at his physique. He was sculpted like a piece of art, muscular and tall and just so big. He was gorgeous. She set her hand on his chest, trailing her fingers down along his abs. She felt the shudder go through his body and smiled softly, reveling in the feel of his firm muscle under her hand. She pressed the palm of her hand against him, feeling the muscle as she slowly kneaded it. Sam groaned softly, eyes almost fluttering as he watched her.

He gently pressed against her, pushing her back down onto her back. He undid her bra, gently pulling it off and moving it aside. He kissed her softly, sweetly, and she pressed up against him. He glided his hand along her side and over her chest, reducing her to a gasping and groaning, boneless pile. Marissa settled her hands on his hips, just above his jeans and he smiled encouragingly at her.

Marissa slid her hands around his belt, undoing it and pulling it free. She dropped it and it fell with a _clink_. Nervous, she undid his jeans. He brushed a hand through her hair and she continued, starting to push his jeans down along with his briefs. Sam shifted to help make it easier and shoved them off the rest of the way. He set his hands on her hips and she nervously lifted her hips and he pulled her jeans and underwear off of her and tossed them onto the floor.

Marissa blushed, her heart pounding in the silence as she looked at Sam. He was so big and strong. He kissed her softly, tenderly, his hand resting on her hip. She kissed him back, sweet and adoring. This wasn't her first time, but it was the first time with someone that she cared about, with someone that she wanted to stay with. She smiled adoringly as he pulled back, trusting Sam. She knew that she could trust him, and it was with a nervous edge to her excitement that she watched him put a condom on and move back over her.

He kissed her, once and then twice and slowly moved into her. Her fingers pressed into his back firmly, mewling his name quietly. Sam murmured softly, kissing along the side of her neck, nuzzling her. She nodded, breathlessly, embracing him as he began moving slow and steady. He built his pace, continuously increasing it as he groaned her name deeply, watching her raptly. Marissa could only moan his name, arching her body to meet his every thrust. She knew that she loved him, and that he was more important to her than anyone else.

As Sam drove them towards rapture, hoarsely groaning her name as she moaned, an 'I love you' escaping her lips. Sam moaned deeply and it was as though her words had made all the difference and she was surrounded in euphoria unlike any she had ever known before.

"Marissa?" he husked, his voice heavy.

"Mmm?" she mumbled, resting against him tiredly.

"I… might, love you too…"

A smile spread across her face, and she kissed him sloppily. He chuckled lazily, kissing her back contently. They snuggled together and it wasn't long before Marissa was practically dead asleep.

_Dean stiffened underneath Andrea, his eyes lifeless and unseeing as blood soaked the sheets beneath him_. _Andrea got dressed and fled, racing to an empty warehouse to perform a summoning ritual._

Marissa woke with a despairing scream, flailing. Sam jerked awake, looking around as he expected something to be attacking her and she stilled, looking away from him. He had already moved further away from her, and rubbed his head tiredly. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye –he looked cute with his sleep ruffled hair and dozy eyes, concern present in them.

"You have to go," she whispered, pained to even say it.

"W-what? What do you mean?" he moved closer to her, reaching towards her.

"Andrea's going to kill Dean." Her voice sounded hollow and flat even to her.

"What?" Already Sam was pulling away from her, grabbing his clothes and hastily dressing.

"Andie is going to kill Dean."

"How? Where? Why?" he growled, grabbing his jacket and shrugging it on.

"The motel…"

"Why Marissa?" he barked.

"Because… she wants to be a demon."

"How long have you known?" he snarled.

Marissa cringed back, pulling the blankets closer to her. She didn't answer him and she knew that told him everything.

"You… traitor," he growled, hurt flashing in his eyes. His whole body was tense with fury. "You knew –you knew this whole time and-!"

"Just go!" She yelled. "Sam, just go!"

He slammed the door on his way out and the Impala roared to life and growled down the road. She wasn't sure when, she was pretty sure it was around the time that the door had slammed that she'd started to cry. She curled up, back underneath the blankets as she sobbed. She didn't know if Sam would speak to her again, at this point. The future branched into a dozen different paths. Some he spoke to her; some he didn't. She didn't know what to think of it and she didn't really want it to. She just wished that when Sam had turned to her, that he hadn't looked quite so hurt.

XXVI (present)

Sam raced out of the Impala and into the motel, hurrying to enter the room. He froze. He had thought that he stood at least a chance. He stared at Dean for a minute. There was no fooling the fact that he was _dead_. He was lying on his back, blood drying around his body with a dagger imbedded in his chest and his eyes wide open. No breath stirred his chest. Sam clenched his fists.

He would kill Andrea. He would hunt her down to the end of the world and he would tear her limb from limb. And fuck Marissa if she ever thought he would go within a hundred miles of her ever again. She should have told him that this was going to happen. She should have given him warning. She should have never let him, for an instant, believe otherwise of Andrea.

Goddamit! He was going to kill her!

* * *

_I took the title from one of the songs I was listening to while writing this, One Day I'll Fly Away by Nicole Kidman from the Moulin Rouge! soundtrack._


	27. Love

Love

Dean groaned as he woke up, staring at Cas in disbelief. Cas turned the knife over in his hand, glancing at Dean as though he was thoroughly unimpressed.

"About time," Dean griped.

Cas rolled his eyes and shook his head. "You had no right Dean Winchester."

"What, to give her what she wanted? I told you earlier."

"Your brother may not forgive you for this."

"He'll be fine, I just… I hope he doesn't kill her."

"How do you know that you won't have to? That next time you see she'll be a demon?" Cas cocked his head to side.

"Because she's… a tough chick. She won't break that easily." Dean sat up, stretching luxuriously. He grimaced. "Damn it, I'm covered in blood!"

XXVII

Sam followed her trail, wherever it went. He wasn't going to let Andrea get away. That was, until his phone rang for the third time and he was forced to answer it before his cover was blown.

"Heya Sammy. You didn't kill her did you?"

"W-what? Dean?"

"Sorry about that, but it was the only plan I had. Ya see she'll lead us to Lilith…"

Sam was quiet for a very long time.

XXVII

Andrea did as she was told; she fulfilled what orders were given to her. She found ways to avoid the truly gruesome ones, to let some things simply pass her by. She was always on the run, afraid that Sam would kill her any second. She went to Lilith directly for her orders in the meantime.

She got sent to Hell eventually, as part of her experience it was inevitable. She hoped that she wouldn't break and lose track of who she was. Maybe she would be able to remember who she was. That was the only thought she focused on as she was punished like never before. She had broken the natural order of things and she didn't care in the least.

Her family was proud.

And she took this suffering to be punishment for killing Dean and betraying Marissa. That was okay with her. She did have to atone for that, although she was sure that she would one day have to face Sam. And he would make sure that she didn't simply go to Hell, but that she died regardless of what Dean would tell him.

And that was okay too.

XXVII

Marissa started her psychic business up again and helped every day ordinary people. She didn't miss the excitement and unpredictability of being on the road with the Winchesters but she did miss Dean's teasing and Sam. She missed everything about Sam. And she missed her best friend, but she had been left behind. She had seen Cas bring Dean back to life, on the orders of his superiors just as Dean had known. She assumed that he had taken advantage of her psychic blindness and arranged the whole thing so that Sam would be on Lilith's trail.

And Sam… since he'd left her and started hunting Andrea he had turned back to Ruby for help and he was practically lost. Dean rejoined him and it wasn't long until the two of them had an explosive falling out and Marissa wished that it didn't have to happen, that she wasn't secretly glad that there was an ending coming.

She never thought that it was the Apocalypse however that was going to descend upon them and swallow them up. She saw it, the bright flash and she felt it like there was great rip in the earth. She saw the signs. Sam and Dean were perfectly fine, as though nothing had ever happened to them physically. Mentally, it was another thing altogether. Sam was clean. Dean hadn't forgotten their fall-out and it wasn't long until they parted ways.

Sam managed to settle himself in Marissa's community; it was as though he had forgotten she existed. She did her best to fight her instincts, all of which seemed to be screaming at her to run to him. She didn't. She drew the days out and slowly got closer, entering the bar with a fake ID. She felt so childish about it, but she… she had to see him. It wasn't something she could physically resist anymore.

He was cleaning glasses and there was Lindsay, a busty good-looking woman flirting with him. He seemed distant, despite how close they were. Marissa wasn't quite sure what she was expecting when she came, but somehow, it just wasn't this. It was as though he was showing any interest in her, at all, but…

"M-Marissa?" Sam whirled to look over at her, disbelief etched on his features. Lindsay turned to look at her as well, confused about the connection they shared. "I –w-what are you doing here?"

"I… live here. Like, three blocks away… or so." She stared at him, hesitant. He was different.

"I –god, it's good to see you." It took him maybe three steps before he'd closed the distance between them and had his arms wrapped around her.

And it felt good to be in his arms again, to be able to have him when he didn't hate her. She'd been able to watch him for so long, three months or more, to see every last thing he'd done. She knew what he had done, she knew that Dean had rejected him and she knew that he was lonely and scared. She was scared too, for him, and just as lonely. She felt a pang in her heart, her arms going around him tightly as though she would never let go of him again.

"Y-you're underage," he mumbled. "How'd you even get in here?"

"Fake ID," she murmured softly, nuzzling him. She was afraid to ask if he hated her or if he'd forgiven her because of what his answer might be. Maybe he just wasn't thinking about Dean's death. She didn't want to bring it up.

"You know," he pulled back to look down at her. "I am _so_ sorry for everything I ever did to you. I can't… I can't make up for that. Not in a-a million years."

"You can," she replied confidently, smiling slightly up at him.

"How?"

"You could… spend a lifetime trying, and one day you'll know," she smiled shyly.

Sam chuckled, leaning in to kiss her but seeming to reconsider it and chastely kissed her cheek instead. She could have pouted at him, she could have, but he needed her now. She wished, once more, that she could tell him how everything would end. Instead, she settled for hugging him once more. He was here, in her arms, alive and well and _Sam_.

The gentle giant she had dreamed about for so long was back. She took him to her house and neither of them made a move to go upstairs. He didn't kiss her and she didn't kiss him. They sat at her kitchen table, empty cups before them, his hand almost touching her knee and her hand almost touching his. It would have been simple to cross that line, to set her hand over his. She wanted to, but somehow it didn't seem right.

They spent hours talking and laughing. About nothing, about everything, about days gone by. About days to come. About Dean and Sam's betrayal and how he felt. They never talked about Dean's death or Andrea. Marissa was too scared to go anywhere near that topic and Sam seemed equally reluctant to bring it up for whatever reason.

They spent the entire night simply talking about everything under the moon and it felt just as natural as breathing did. When Sam left, he kissed her on the cheek and went back to work. Marissa closed her business for the day, cancelled all the appointments that had been made and crawled into bed.

She did miss their physicality, but right now, she simply just loved having Sam _here_. She loved having a connection to him, being able to know that he was there, and being able to understand him better. Just because she had watched him all her life, didn't really mean that she knew him. She did know him, but in a distant way. It felt like they were so much closer and she let her eyes drift shut and carry her away into a memory of the last time he had been with her. Still, so perfect until the last moment.

She had never looked at another man, or really considered one as she waited for Sam. She had hoped that he would come back. She wondered however, at what had brought him to her home. But she didn't push it –he was here and while he was she was going to get to know him. And likewise, he would get to know her.

Sam was surprised to learn that she had gym membership and went whenever she had the opportunity. She was surprised to learn that he liked the sound of her laughter and the color of her eyes and the way she blushed when he teased her. She was surprised to learn that he might really feel the same way about her as how she felt about him.

She wasn't surprised to see him go when his workplace was attacked by hunters. She was sad to see him go. He phoned her before he left and she wondered how he'd ever got her number. But she was glad he had it. He phoned her at least once a week and they just talked. Sometimes about the case he was working on, sometimes about Dean when Dean was out and sometimes they talked about nothing at all.

She got worried when he didn't phone her. His calls became a little more sporadic and distant but she didn't let herself worry. She tried to hold herself together as best as she could manage, which was just fine. It wasn't like she was dependant on Sam, but she did miss him. She missed him a lot.

She even got to talk to Dean sometimes. He was a little surlier than she remembered but after a few minutes he was back to teasing and amusement, mostly at Sam's expense. So Sam naturally took the phone back and threatened that he wouldn't let Dean talk to her anymore.

Somewhere, in all that, when Dean joked and teased Sam about Marissa being his girlfriend, no one was really surprised that he hadn't denied it. And then, to get him back, Sam brought up that male strip club. Brothers didn't forget stuff like that.

When the future changed towards the direction of Sam saying yes and losing his soul, Marissa cried and wouldn't talk to Sam for the entire week. She wasn't angry at him, she knew that it wasn't his fault but she couldn't talk to him. If she had, she would have spilled her guts. She didn't tell Dean either, she held to the oath that the angels had left her with. She phoned him Monday night.

He tried to get her to talk about what had happened but she refused to. Two weeks later he came down to visit her under the pretense of working a case and he spent two days with her. They were heaven spent days. She avoided work and dreaded the day he left.

As time passed and it drew close to Sam surrendering himself to Lucifer, he went to see her while Dean went to Lisa. They spent their last evening lying together, neither of them saying anything.

And then Sam surrendered his soul and Dean sent him to Hell, trapped within Hell. Dean visited her a week later and held her while she cried. She'd cried on her own too, but it was nice to have someone to be there for her. She was legitimately eighteen by the time that Sam was out of Hell and watching her.

He didn't trust her, wouldn't go near her but many nights she knew that he was watching her house. She tried to block out seeing the monster he had become. And when he finally came back to himself and she was nineteen, it was as though he was still scared of her. It took him three weeks to call her, when he was terrified of what she had seen and been put through. She comforted him, assured him she was alright even though she wasn't.

She phoned Dean, terrified when she saw it, saw that Sam was going to lose his mind. She couldn't tell him anything, but she was afraid that her tears had told him more than she had meant to. Dean probably knew more than he let on but he talked to her, calmed her down and then let her talk to Sam. She never wanted to stop talking to Sam, she didn't want him to hang up and she was scared of it. Sam seemed to understand that there was more going on than she was willing to tell him, or in actuality, able to tell him, and he talked to her until she fell asleep, the phone cuddled against her ear.

When he came back, whole and repenting and slightly crazy, Marissa felt the burning need to be at his side to support him and Dean throughout all of this. Sam needed someone to be with him, needed someone who understood him and knew what he was going through. Dean was there, Dean was supportive and he was doing the best that he could but things had begun to spiral out of control. Marissa reluctantly stayed at home, talked to Sam for hours on end when they could afford to and tried to stay out of enemy sight while she worried and fretted like a housewife.

He didn't talk to her for a few weeks and she helplessly feared that the worst had happened. And then, he called her. And she got the news and he drove back to be with her, just for some time, needing comfort as much as Dean needed it. They had gone their separate ways, a vow uniting them. They would take some time and grieve and then they would destroy the enemies. And then, they would pack up their gear and retire.

The world needed Sam and Dean Winchester. But so did Marissa and so did Kora. And they didn't want to be needed anymore, regardless of what fate or destiny or god had planned for them. They were going to quit, retire and live as happily as they could be.

Sure, it was never perfect. Sam sometimes woke up in the middle of the night with a start, staring off into a corner as his heart pounded in his chest. Marissa would snuggle a little closer to him, squeeze his hand gently and soothingly playing with his hair. Slowly, he would relax and sink back down into bed, drifting to sleep.

* * *

_Well, thank you Amaven, Kissacazador and Mar for sticking with me and reviewing so wonderfully. Thank you to all of you reader who just haven't commented but have either alerted or favorited this story or simply read it._

_I hope this is a satisfying ending for everyone._

_Also, a note. Probably by Monday I will have a companion fic to this story up. It'll be between 3-6 chapters long and start from Dean finding that strip club and then it will follow his relationship with Kora. (Kora has no connection to the male strip club, just want to get that out right now)_


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